If I were to make a request of death, I would respectfully ask that it come too late. Of course death won't be influenced; and if death hears, death laughs. So I must make too-late, now.
There are those who live as if death adds meaning to life only when it comes too late. And there are those who live as if death will never touch them. And there are those who live as if death proves life meaningless, regardless of when it comes.
To live with passive hope exposes one's fear and disrespects life. To live with casual disregard is to be thoughtless, inept, and wasteful. To live actively, with purpose and communal beneficence, creates meaning and brings the brilliance of this moment to bear upon the shades of too-late.
When death comes unbidden, and when one has lived active, personal accomplishment:
- One can see Truth in death.
- One can face death with courage.
- One can face death, still loving life.
- One can see Beauty in death.
- Death comes too late.
Though I cannot speak with any degree of certainty until my personal specter is looming and imminent, these thoughts on death feel right and proper. I have experienced intimations of my own death. And I have suffered loss from the deaths of others; (one friend in this week). But no matter the effort, I am yet unable to know the Beauty, Truth, Courage, and Love that I believe will be found in that bittersweet moment.
I have to believe that my life will define my death. I have to believe that life and death are inseparable, and I have to believe that death without life is insuperable. I have to believe that one must live in order to die.
To face my own personal specter of death is not so different from facing my own personal specter of pain; or adversity; or growth; or change; or uncertainty; or responsibility; or skepticism; or sacrifice; or love. All of these specters (and many, many others) involve varying degrees of suffering. All of these specters (and many, many others) require one to live. In order to live, one must suffer. In order to die, one must live.