Reporting on my death

Reporting on my death


Reporting on my death

My death is not real.

I do not know when, how or what form it will take.

I have no beliefs of an after-life. That seems too human a concept to me. My death will be the end of my consciousness. It will be similar to going to sleep. I will simply not wake.

My mind has no concept of the oblivion during sleep when my consciousness no longer operates. It is a little death. There is no sadness and grief in that state for the person concerned. There is only nothingness. The time evaporates. It is empty. The sadness of death only comes with contemplation. We torment ourselves needlessly. The sadness is in the loss of this peephole into the universe. For the dead there is no perception, no sense of loss, no suffering. They simply no longer exist.

Instead of dwelling on death we should be celebrating the wonder of our lives. For this flash of time we have a peephole into a wondrous universe. It is brief, measured in seconds, and it is miraculous. We should maximise that the experience. It will not come again.

I have enjoyed it greatly. I have filled it with as much as I could pack in.

That is a life worth living.

I know I have been lucky. I have loved and been loved. I have read, written, travelled and made friends. I have tasted the best and tested the boundaries.

I shall have few regrets.

My death will be a sadness. Of that I am sure. It will be a sadness to me that I can no longer extend my vocabulary of delights, I can no longer share with the people I love and my peephole will close. It will be a sadness for people who love me.

But no regrets. We have shared and loved enough.

My funeral must be a celebration. I am writing this on a boat travelling to South America. The adventure continues. That is what must be acknowledged. If my life had been empty and mundane that might be a different matter. But it has been full. I am replete. I have already lived a hundred lives and loved as much. What more could any man ask?

Yet still there are decisions.

I vacillate between leaving my body to medical science as my brave mother did, or being buried in a wicker basket so that my flesh may return to the cycle of life. No lead lined coffin for me. I want the living things to have their fill. I have loved my biology.

I have chosen my music well – Little Richard – Rip it Up and Roy Harper – When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease are the two essentials. They’ll be lots of photos of me and I’ll write a piece myself. It’ll be good to talk from beyond the grave. I might even record something. No doubt a few other people might want to say things about me.

I need to plan it a bit more thoroughly.

Strange and ironic– that I now, planning a funeral, I need to flesh out the bones.

The thought of my funeral makes me smile.


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5 thoughts on “Reporting on my death

    1. I might have a go at doing that Dewin. I have planned out a post-death celebration. I intend to leave my body to medical science so there will be no funeral. But I have considered writing an address from beyond my demise to be read at the celebration of my wonderful life. As to who I would want to read it – that’s a difficult one. Many of the people I’ve greatly admired are dead.
      Perhaps Ian McEwan? Bob Dylan? Roy Harper? Or Nick Harper?
      Have you played any of that music yet?

      1. I like the sound of your idea to address (your) funeral-attendees posthumously: ’tis an opportunity to have the last word 😀

        Although grief makes prisoners of those left behind, I’ve always thought funerals should be more about celebrating someone’s life. Will you organise a free bar? 😉

        That’s not a bad selection of possible readers. although Bob Dylan showing up would cause quite a stir.

        As for the music, no, not as yet…time, work, and family matters have conspired against me this past couple of weeks: I am behind on several things as a result. Could you leave a link to that blog-post please…I’ve a few days off mid-week, thanks.

        ‘If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.’ ~ Isaac Asimov


      2. Yes – I thought it would be nice to be there in one form or other and maybe my words could help alleviate the sadness.
        I’m sure Bob would enjoy it.
        I’ll check out that link for you.
        Great quote from Asimov!

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