Darkness

Should death be feared, or accepted?

Is it something we should come to terms with, or bitterly struggle to deny?

There are moments when I regard it with a sense of calm -- an understanding that it will come, and a peace about the passing. And then there are moments when the very idea terrifies me.

Perhaps the terrifying thing is not the act of death itself, but the "how".

And the "who". Who will I be when that day comes? Will I be the person that I want to be? Will I have shaped and molded myself into the type of person that I've worked these 23 years towards becoming?

And then the "what". What will I have done with the time that I've spent here? And what mistakes will I have made...what skeletons will follow me into my grave, and what will I fear dragging me down upon my arrival to the heavenly gates?

Perhaps it is not the idea of death itself, for me, which is terrifying...the fact that, in my life, I've made my mistakes, and my fear that I will not have had the time to correct them before I get there.

Or worse, that some are not correctable.