Over the last few weeks I have heard of several men, all former acquaintances or professional contacts, who have died or suffered severe stroke or heart attack. On Friday yet another was admitted to hospital. It is inevitable, I suppose, that the longer one lives the more likely it becomes that such an event will overcome one’s friends and acquaintances. More to the point, when I consider that all of those so afflicted recently have been younger and -at least seemingly – fitter than I, it becomes immediately apparent that I should not exclude the possibility of facing death myself sometime.
While I certainly do not look forward to it (I still have some things I want to do and see) i have no fear. I have left my fossil footprints on the world, for good or ill, and have few regrets and nothing to fear save the big C. Death holds no fear, though the manner of it may cause some concern. At least I am relieved of the tiresome thought of an afterlife. An eternity of anything would be hell.
So. Do not grieve for me when I am dead. If you must grieve, grieve for those left behind who cannot find a meaning in death or in life.
And on that cheerfully morbid note, let us get on with living.
Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we diet.