The Power of Death and Reflection: Why is the End so Hard to Talk About?

                                The death of my grandfather in 2012 coupled with my father and uncle's diagnosis of cancer last year had the cumulative effect of influencing the way that I viewed death.  Clearly, seeing death impact even the most intimate corners of my life caused me to stop and reflect upon the realities of life.  In my life, I have learned that emotionally-based experiences seem to have the greatest pulls on our being; therefore, coping with the loss of those most dear to us is one of the most physiologically painful moments in our lives.

 

                                Admittedly, my childhood seemed to keep death about as far away from reality as possible.  Losing my paternal grandmother at the age of four to A.L.S; Lou Gehrig's disease, left me feeling quite puzzled as to what death actually was.  In all honesty, I was not completely convinced with the narrative which provided positive answers to all of my questions.  From an early age I have always embraced the mystery of life, and I felt compelled to seek answers to the questions at large. 

 

                                In my everyday life, death certainly did not manifest itself growing up in America.  Living in a middle class neighborhood and having parents who could provide for the family certainly helped to proliferate the idea that life was an exercise in immortality.

 

                                In the family unit, in the classroom, and in Church no one really seemed that comfortable with talking about death.  Whenever I brought up these types of questions I found people only willing to offer common sense responses, positivist logic, or a dismissive reprieve to my inquiry.  These types of half-hearted, unjustifiably answers, or openly antagonistic answers left me feeling all the more frustrated for asking in the first place.

 

                                From a young age I developed the ability to read people's emotions quite well.  While growing up, I also started to attempt pleasing those around me in order to receive some sort of reward in return.  These seemingly quite different factors contributed in leaving many of my difficult questions unanswered.

 

                                These unanswered questions about death had a large impact on my life by the time I was in high school.  By that time, I started to become obsessed with the idea that some unintended consequence from a minor event could at any moment cause the end of my life.  I seriously spent hours fretting about my own demise a fantasy world of doom.  Meanwhile, I found that all inquires on death continued to produce little results. 

 

                                When looking at these comments in the present, I am aware for the first time how great this fatalistic fear of death impacted my life.  The beauty of my present peace has allowed me to realize for the first time that I was terrified of my life until my mid-twenties.