by Brenda Halverson

Created on: May 27, 2008

I've heard it said that ignorance is bliss, but for me, that does not apply to the subject of death. I also do not want to become any more informed about it. And yet, as I get older, it is a subject that is often on my mind.

How will I die? Will it be in a car accident as I commute fifty miles one way to work? I've never had an accident....so far. But my cataract-even as I type this, I am aware that I am all but blind in my right eye. It's so dangerous to drive like that.

With the onset of middle age and late night insomnia, shadowy thoughts swirl through my mind. Will it be in a riding accident? My husband broke ribs in ten places and sustained a compression fracture of his back in a recent riding accident. Is it crazy for us to keep living like this? I'm scared to get hurt. But I want to live, not cower in fear as I get older-not live out my days as a spectator, watching people older than me. Even young people die in freak accidents. There is no way to predict these things. I read an article once about a ninety-four year old woman who was still training horses. There were pictures, even, to prove her achievement. And what about my friend, Judy, who is in her seventies, and still riding green horses up and down hills, acting like a young filly herself? But I don't know if I can be like that, because at heart, I am a chicken.

Half asleep, I think of my children and my granddaughter. She was born almost three months early. When she came home from the hospital I held her for hours on end, and we have a special bond. I have to live a long time for her. She gets lonesome for her "Gwamma", and she would miss me terribly. When I was hospitalized, my daughter was terrified. She crawled into bed with me, as if she needed to know I was still flesh and blood. My son visited every day and my husband was such a great support. It was harder to see them so worried than it was to be sick. I can't bear to think of their sorrow if I die first. I see my funeral and am still vain enough to hope I look decent. And I can't bear to think of having something happen to them.

Should we redo our will? I should write a letter, saying which songs I want, but I don't think I will care. And should I decide who will get what, so there will be no fighting? That won't matter, either.

And what about my faith? I haven't been to church in years. They're all hypocrites. If I could find a good church I would go there. And yet, it is not church that will get me into heaven. I pray for awhile, asking God to help me get through what I hope will be the last great crisis of my life-because I don't need anymore of them-asking Him to please accept me as I am, and please don't make me suffer very much, "because, God, you know I am weak".

In the wee morning hours I reminisce about my failures and successes....the boys I dated, the relationships I destroyed, and the ones that almost destroyed me. My life experiences, not all of them pleasant, that shaped my very quirky personality. My prickly truce with my parents, which I am at a loss to change. There is no going back, only forward-to what? The unknown. It can't be that bad, can it? Millions have gone before me, though I realize few have survived.

My horoscope. During a foolish period of my life, I questioned how I would die. It said I would die at age eighty-six from natural causes. But no one believes their horoscope, right? Do I want to live that much longer, anyway? I have aches and pains now. What will it be like in thirty more years?

I have to quit thinking about this-there is work to be done, and I'm still able to do it. But, Oh My God, there will be a day when I can't. A day when I take that final step. And I wonder, can I do it?, even as I realize it is the only way out.

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