Death Wishes
It’s Not Complicated
Periodically, I write about death. Some people might think that my fascination with dying is a bit macabre. Maybe they’re right. I’ll admit that I raise the topic more often than most of my friends. Why do I feel more comfortable talking about death than others? I have no idea. Perhaps it’s an act of rebellion on my part.
I was raised in a far-right Christian cult.
A regular theme in the church was the end of the world, with no real messages of hope about this life. Even though I had barely started my young life, my parents focused on nothing but the end of it. They couldn’t predict the day or the hour that Jesus would return to collect his followers before the Great Tribulations began, but both of my parents were certain it would happen in their lifetime.
So, I was living on borrowed time.
There was no point in planning for much of anything; it was all going to end in five, ten, maybe 20 years. As if that weren’t enough for a little girl to contemplate, my own personal death was also thrown in my face. I’d be lucky to live long enough to experience the Rapture because my life could be snuffed out at any moment.
Yikes!
If you weren’t raised with such a heavy burden, you simply can’t imagine how much this clouds your worldview. It’s pretty hard to just play with your paper dolls in the back room, knowing full well that you might eat a potato chip and accidentally choke to death before the day ends.
Well… I’m 74 and still kicking, folks. Hallelujah, I guess. Eh?
This little girl trapped in an old woman’s body never expected to live to see thirty. But here I am. Furthermore, both of my parents have been dead for almost a decade, so much for their fixation with being raptured.
Is there a moral to this story?
I believe there’s no inherent meaning to life except for the value we choose to give it. So, I’ve chosen to embrace both life and death. For the biggest portion of my young life, I worried about being caught off guard, unprepared for the end times. All these years later, I’m at peace with the most natural thing in the animal kingdom — my own death.
In fact, although I can’t say I’m looking forward to it exactly, I’m curious about the whole dying process.
That’s why I have a well-thought-out plan for how I want my death handled. I have no way of guessing what, if anything, awaits me on the other side. As near as I can tell, I’ll just close my eyes and disappear. But who knows? If there’s something awaiting me when I die, it’s unlikely we have the ability to imagine it. We’re pretty provincial creatures overall. Most people can’t imagine another culture here on Earth, let alone a world beyond this planet.
We lead pretty narrow lives.
Everything humans have told me about the afterlife sounds pretty much like a continuation of the life we lead here. You know — the idea that Heaven is a gated club that only allows certain people to belong. If you’re invited in, however, you’ll live in a mansion and walk on streets of gold. Really? I wouldn’t be interested in walking on streets of gold while I’m alive, let alone after I’ve gone on to experience the privilege of the chosen ones. Heaven sounds too much like our manmade golf clubs.
So, I’ll leave the fairy tales to the religious, and I’ll focus my attention on the here and now.
This brings me full circle to the point of this article. I know, I know; I can get long-winded, but I thought I needed to provide my readers with a backstory.
What are my wishes when it comes to my own death?
If I get to linger long enough to experience my passing, I want to spend time under the massive, old tree in my backyard. Carry me out and let me lie under it, looking up at the sky through the limbs and leaves. I’ve long held an affinity for trees. I love trees. I’ve been known to place my hands on them in an effort to feel their wisdom. My church is wherever there are trees. Lying under a tree while looking up through the limbs and leaves at the passing clouds in a blue sky is an out-of-body experience for me, even when I’m not dying. I can only imagine the otherworldly experience it would provide as I leave this life behind. The sound of rustling leaves and the sight of birds flying overhead fill me with wonder in a way that a golf course or streets of gold will never do.
I do not want a funeral nor a gathering of people to honor my passing.
Visit with me while I’m alive if you feel so inclined. I’ve shopped in the area for the cheapest cremation services available and have alerted my family. I’ve been a frugal woman and have no intention of spending a lot of money because of dying.
Keep it simple.
Give me a moment or two with Mother Nature. That’s my idea of passing with dignity. She can take me home, wherever that is, and I know that I’ll feel safe. This life hasn’t always been a cup of tea, but my moments with trees, without the senseless chatter of human voices to distract me, have seen me through the worst and best of times. I’ve learned one thing from life: if I want to feel part of something bigger than myself, I should find a forest. It has sustained me through life.
It will guide me gently through death.
Teresa is an author and a professional myth buster. You can find her books on Amazon.
