Thinking of Death

I think about death. I’m not sure if it’s a lot, at least once a week though. Going through Ecclesiastes has only served to remind me more often about death. And it’s not like this has only happened recently because of tragedies in my life (such as my father, paternal grandfather, maternal grandmother, and just recently maternal grandfather). No, I’ve always thought about death, even when I was a young child. My mom is fond of telling me this story, which I will now relate to you. Cue flashback music and wavy lines.

We used to own a motorhome, RV, pleasure vehicle, or as I called it, “deathtrap-on-wheels.” Seriously, have you seen these things? They’re monstrosities of human design that should have never existed in the first place, much like Frankenstein or Barney the Dinosaur. Who thought it was a good idea to place a house on wheels and then expect 60-year-old men to drive them inside the lanes, cross-country? But I’m digressing again. This motorhome that we had, it was an ugly 70’s orange. There was a bunk bed over the cab, which slides down when the RV is parked (obviously). As a child, I’d say I was 1 and half, 2?, I would be running around, making a general nuisance of myself and whenever my dad got tired of me running underfoot, he would pick me up and place me on the bunk. And then he would tell me, don’t move or you will fall and die! Nice of him, huh? And I would be so scared of falling that I would actually freeze and even back up from the edge. My mom is always surprised that works. I guess toddlers don’t normally have a notion of death. But somehow I did.

Now that I think of it, my mom threatened me with death a LOT while I was growing up. Again, during the years when I could start crawling and walking, she would show me the cabinet of medicine, which she conveniently placed in the bottom drawer, and tell me, “Don’t open this drawer or you will DIE!” Of course, I never touched that drawer. No, it doesn’t make sense to me either why she would put a drawer of death accessible by me instead of just putting them in the upper cabinets, safe out of my reach. Or why she doesn’t put those child-proof locks on them. Anyway…

So yeah, I’ve thought of death often. What would it be like. Is there really a heaven that I would go to when I leave this place? Will people remember who I am or that I ever lived? It’s a sobering thought.