The question: what is this Death thing, and how do manage it. Or does it manage us? What are we, here, in this place where we have been for so much of our lives (as in, all), we became accustomed long ago to how incredibly bizarre it can be, and it can be. But what is it about death that grows on me like a self imposed cancer, seeming to make itself more aware to me every day.

For one thing , the concept of death is one that runs counter-intuitive to everything that we are, and have known. Mostly that there must be a purpose for everything we do. We are encouraged to have a purpose in life, a reason for living. But why have reasons for living if the life we live has no reason for being? If the sum total of our being here is to have every thought, emotion, feeling, sensation, every hope and agony we’ve held captive in our bones as memories from the very first spark of our lives, all just vanish into a nothing so complete, the concept of nothing doesn’t exist there, then why would it matter that we have a purpose? To keep ourselves occupied? Keep this incredibly complex and energetic brain of ours busy? Are we just playing our particular role in the forward movement of humanity, becoming just another layer of deceased who did their part in getting humanity to a place of defeating death? Is that all that we are? So that’s the scary part of death. That everything we do is worthless.

Then there are concerns as to the transition, what gets us there from here. Will it creep up into our lap, or drop into it from out of the blue. Will it he violent? Gruesome? Awesome?  Drawn-out & painful? Will I have people around me secretly wishing, for us both, that I would hurry and go?

The third threateningly contrary aspect of death is that it is the one thing ing life we truly have no choice. We have no say in the matter. We can’t get around this great, imposing, reality altering mystery awaiting each and every one of us. We have cavalier discussions on the subject as if it’s something that’s going to happen to everyone but us, instead of it being the solid, finite harbinger of finality it truly is. It descends toward from the edges of time & space at just such a speed as to allow us a normal life, if we’re safe.

Is this Death, then? The void so complete, we might as well not be here at all. The answer is, no; that is not death. It is not death, by the simple fact that we know not what death is, or what life is, for that matter.