I doubt many can honestly say they do not want to die because life is simply too enjoyable to miss. What comes with an outlook of such pizzazz will be the bonus of not fearing death. You can, though, have that bonus without the first prize, and I considered myself as one who did not fear death, saying that I saw no point thinking or worrying about it – I’d meet it when it came. My logic was that, just as I did not care to dwell on the character of some celebrity or politician I had never met, speculating on death was an exercise in ignorance. But then I realised that I would meet death.
That realisation came to me ten kilometres above the earth, the icy understanding that my life depended solely on the machine in which I sat. It was not that I feared it would malfunction: I had flown enough times to bypass that fear. It was the horror of…me gone, me being no more, no more me for me to talk to. Death would take that all away – such a waste, so unnecessary, so cruel – and so easily too. The flash of a shot, a clot to the lungs, a foot in the wrong place.
That moment of realisation did not engender a fear of dying, but it did turn my mind to consider the subject which I had previously thought unnecessary and pointless. I saw that my attitude of sitting easily to death was engendered by a fear of growing old, wanting to be in company with the young who seldom consider their mortality.
One way to understand something better is to see what it is not. Death is one subject where this practice can be fruitful, starting with the bucket list approach. This is perhaps the most popular view of death around in the West, heartland of the materialism which drives the desire to maximise the pleasures of the world. This view is founded on life being an on-off switch. One moment you’re on, the next you’re off. (A quick end forms part of that package). Determined to get at life before death gets you, your aim is to amass the means to buy a big bucket and fulfil your life in it.
This idea is attractive. Firstly, what goes without being said is that your actions will have consequences only in the here and now. All the good stuff and the kak stuff happens here, so go big on the good times and avoid the latter. And if no one calls you to account for something bad here, you go to the grave a happy man and stay there.
Those who peddle this view have the argument that it is wise to base a game plan on what is known – and what’s here and now is the known. The problem with this is that it takes an unknown, death, and conveniently turns it into a known – you live, you die, the end. Everyone likes a meeting with a single item on the agenda and if you can present life like that you have a winning idea. It allows a full-on approach to life, living it to the max, which can bring out the best or the worst in people. But it does make life simpler – you are the boss – and stops death from being an uncomfortable subject: the worst thing that can happen to you after life is a post-mortem, so talking about it is no problem…there’s not much to say.
It is odd that the idea of death not being the end of ourselves brings contention. That death exists independently of ourselves is a fact: we did not create it, and though it is possible to understand what we did not create – it’s what we’ve been trying to do ever since we emerged on earth – to understand death one has to die – and no one has yet come back to tell us about it. To state that death negates the existence of a God or an after-life, treats death as a fact the meaning of which you have a sure knowledge. Yes, it might work to point out how those who talk of meeting their wives in heaven and singing with the choirs are delusional, colouring their heaven with the rosy tint of what they like on earth. But those who see it as a station closedown are also framing death as they would like it: no questions asked, no final reckonings.
Death can be frightening and discomforting. It is associated with the experience of ultimate pain. Those who live through a painful ordeal might say that, had the pain been greater, they would not have made it; it seems then, that the pain of death can be the ultimate worst and this frightens us. Not that we will all die painfully, but we do fear it. Death is also discomforting. To think of someone close to you, a child, a spouse, suddenly dying is disquieting: it seems so wrong, so unnatural to have that brimming life which you knew so well suddenly no more. Gone is a presence which gave meaning to space. However close he or she was, their province is now one to which you will never have access.
Death is life’s great reference point. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” declares the poster, and the oldest man to venture into space, Star Trek’s William Shatner said,“…the blue is down below and here the blackness of space…and here was death and there was life.” Death is the finishing line which we keep running away from: those who can put the greatest distance between it and them are the winners, living the high life, the healthy existence, practising the skills of rejuvenation.
Death is also used as a currency to add worth. The genius of artists who die young, Mozart, Keats, Kahlo, is made more wondrous by the words: “Just imagine what the world would have seen had he or she lived longer.” The stars who die from overdoses or suicide, Morrison, Ledger, Van Gogh, assume supernova status, leaving a black hole in our universe. We prefer this to their ending as a red dwarf.
I asked my grandfather, when he was ninety-two, whether he thought about death, “All the time,” he said. I did not ask any further questions, too taken aback by the response. Surely someone who has lived so long a life would have passed through any apprehension about the end? Wouldn’t it be right to sit back and relax, knowing that all that was expected of him now was a peaceful end? I couldn’t imagine what there could be left to think about, but then I had not lived the life he had.
The Irish sing, “The longer you live, the sooner you’ll bloody well die.” As I live longer and approach my death sooner, I am not inclined to think much about death: to be honest, there’s too much in life to worry about. Though I believe in God and that death is not the end of my life, I do not have any conception of what is to come other than death itself. I know that fact, and know it more for that experience in the aeroplane some years back. In times to come that sense of death’s reality may grow stronger and, strangely enough, confirm the wondrous fact of my individual life and how great a gift it is.
Life is short. Leave the soup to last.
Eat dessert first.