My Relationship with Death

I have always found myself in a strange relationship with death.

I have always found myself in a strange relationship with death. Death did not affect me until these last few years. I did not experience much of death when I was younger. There were those who passed before I met them. I never met my Mom’s mother. She passed when my mom was young. I never met my Mom’s father. I have always felt akin to him. I was told stories of his ways, his behaviors. He escaped Europe before World War 2, going back to retrieve as much family as possible, before it was too late.

My mom’s father was poor, creating jewelry on the west side of Chicago, living in a small apartment. He would marry 4 times. He would pass, during his 4th marriage, prior to my birth.

As a child, I heard of death, I watched news stories on death. John Lennon. Natalie Wood. I was very, very young so my memories of those celebrities was quite foggy. However, The Challenger Space Shuttle would be the most shocking of deaths. We were witness to something incredible, and within minutes, absolute horror. A friend and I speak of this on occasion, and ask what kind of affect did the explosion, on live TV, affect our lives, our minds, and so on. I would hope studies have been done on this.

Kobe Bryant’s death in January of 2020. I am obviously skipping ahead to the most impactful death that is also the most recent. Before I sleep at night, it haunts me. I am alive and a sports icon is gone, taken away awfully too soon.

I never felt that death had an impact on me. Deaths in masses, such as the current scale of loss taking place during this pandemic, are tragic but also a terrible necessary of thousands of years of evolution, when studied in great detail, of how constant large losses took place, whether created by man or by Earth.

I lost someone I considered a father. I lost a mentor. I lost friends. By blood, I lost the other grandfather, but I was invited, uninvited, then re-invited to his funeral.

Nights during the pandemic, falling asleep has become more of a challenge. I feel each day’s end has more weight to it. I close my eyes, and my mind goes to death.

I am very scared of death. I am horrified. In moments of my life, where I was in situations I was not comfortable, or places I did not want to be, death would consume me. The shortness of life on a much larger scale overwhelmed me.

The other day, I watched an online newlywed-type game, of which couples were asked questions to answer. Once was about fear, and almost every male was thought to have said ‘death’. Their ages varied. It was eye-opening.