We’re all terminal
We’re all terminal.
Each day ends with a little death;
Each morning starts with resurrection.
Our span is fleeting.
A mayfly’s dance upon the water;
A bubble’s iridescent moment.
So while we may
Let us fill the moments with joy
And wonder at the stars above.
For all life is but a moment
That we must fill with love.
We’re all terminal
I have been writing these pieces about death but hopefully not in a morbid way. Death is something that waits for us all and there are many views on what will occur. Yet death is a taboo; something we avoid.
I think about death a lot.
I wanted to record a diary of my own thoughts on death and record my own death – quite difficult – particularly the very last bit!
We’ll see how it progresses. If it is soon and sudden it may be a very short book!
But as I was writing this I was listening to the radio. There was an interesting discussion with a lady who had a terminal illness and did not have long to live. She was talking very lucidly about what she was wanting to pack in to what time was left, her priorities, her bucket list, and the interviewer asked if she was finding it difficult to talk about her ensuing death. She said that it wasn’t. She had come to terms with it and that we were all terminal.
The irony is that she will undoubtedly life longer than a small number of the healthy listeners who were tuned in. The difference was that they did not know they were destined to suddenly die.
We go through life and waste our opportunities, take for granted the love, awe and wonder around us, and rarely make full use of our time.
For me, talking about death makes me want to pack more in to the time I have; to not dwell on my aches, pains and limitations (ageing is a bastard) but to focus on what I still can do and make the most of each precious moment.
Death fills me with determination to live.