This subject of death is something I wrote about some in another post but I think it deserves a whole post of it’s own. I’m just going to start over and type as if i hadn’t spoke about death until now so excuse me if I come off as repetitive, initially.
Up until I was about 34 and separated from the Faith, I had no reason to think about death or the process of dying. Now that I think about it, I probably started to become aware of my mortality when I became noticeably gray at about that same age. It’s far from full but it’s there.
The biblical teachings on death leads one to believe they will never die. In fact, death is synonymous with sleep. Sleep is temporary and death is permanent. The distinction is that those who believe in Christ fall asleep and those who deny him die the death of eternal separation from God.
So, because I was a believer, death wasn’t an issue for me. My faith kept me ignorantly youthful and forever young. I had hope in an afterlife and resurrection. Eternal life meant that there was no aging. The emphasis is placed on the spiritual over the physical. So, I can feel as young as I want to believe I am but when I look in the mirror, the reality can’t be hidden.
I’m 38 now. And it was at 37 some months before my birthday that the realization of eminent death finally hit me. It hit me so hard that for some nights I lay with minor but sudden panic attacks that manifested in deep sighings and quiet groans.
I can honestly say that there is a fear of death residing in my conscience. It’s more fear of the unknown but also a fear that there seems to be nothing after this. I have to struggle against hopelessness and loss of ambition as I reiterate the age old question: “why are we here?”.
The good thing is, death had helped me stay grounded on what really matters and to avoid a lot of unnecessary bull crap that is easy to fall into. It’s sobering but it also challenges me to take advantage of this one life and live it well. Experience many things and make a good effort at trying to enjoy it.
It hits home.
Very recently, I had to face death in a way that I hadn’t before. As a matter of fact, my daughter passed away just yesterday on Christmas Day, 2019 at about 3:25pm. She only lived for 21 days. Her name was Lynnessa. She is survived by her mother and father, two sisters, and four other half siblings. That was my baby in the cover image. This is her in her final moments in her mother’s arms:
I want to take a moment and just honor the team at Seattle Children’s Hospital for taking care of our baby and for doing all in their power to help her. They were very kind and gentle in their approach as they guided us into her passing.
If you’ve read my blog from the beginning until this point in my life, then maybe you can understand me when I say that it was hard for me engage emotionally. I’ve yet to shed a tear and I’m only a little sad.
Because of my past, the emotional switch inside is damaged and in need of repair. Some say it’ll hit me out of nowhere but I worry that its possible that it may not at all.
I know I need therapy and I have every intention on getting help.
I also had to deal with her passing in light of what I understand about death now. For me, when she passed, she was just gone. Gone nowhere. I really don’t believe in a soul anymore. I have no reason to.
We thought about how we were going to tell her oldest sister of 4yrs old what happened to her. Some were saying we should tell her she went to be with the angels but that obviously doesn’t sit right with me anymore. I decided that we’d tell her she is alive in our hearts’. That is the truth.
All I can say about death now is, if my baby can face it, I hope that I can too. With the same peace and care that she received and with those that love me, near me.
I’ll miss you, baby. I won’t forget you.