As I’m getting older, I’m more and more conscious that I’m not eternal. Nobody is. I’m reminded of this fatality each time I see my mother, who is currently 87. I find this to be highly unsettling.
Following the publication of my “Friday Notes #76 — Flirting With The End of Life”, I felt the need to cogitate further on the subject of the end of my life. Why does thinking about death trigger anxiety in me? Why think about it now? Why so often? As one of my dear friends would probably say (he published a few pieces about death on Medium), death is part of life.
The simple fact that we don’t know when it will happen, how it will happen, or what context it will happen is likely the main reason I feel uneasy about my own death. Not knowing is the main reason. But, there are so many things we don’t know about life, and none of them are more troublesome for me. My own death is the ultimate thing that I don’t control (sure, there are many things that I don’t control besides my death).
When I visit a cemetery like the one in the photo above, I’m reminded that, somehow, all those people who died probably didn’t know either when the ultimate end of the road would be reached. After all, isn’t it the best ingredient to happiness and faith to be unaware of the final destination?
This edition of the photo legend series was a bit heavy. Less heavy editions are available here. I’m alright, don’t worry. 🙂