Thoughts on Death

When I was in middle school, I was intellectually suicidal.  I wanted to die, I thought it would be better to die than be alive, but I never seriously thought of going through with it.  There wasn't even anything weird or bad going on in my life.  I was just intrigued by death, and as a Christian, I fully believed that it would be a better place, so I would pray that God would kill me.

Death is still interesting to me.  Personally, it sucks, but intellectually, the process, both of dying and of bereavement, is fascinating.  For example, death really shows you who your friends are.  I won't lie.  I have totally divided my "friends" into good or bad whether or not they hugged me/said something comforting to me or if they did nothing.  If I'm not sure they know about my grandpa, they go into a dubious "to be decided" category.  Some people I assumed would be there for me were not, and some people I did not expect went out of their way to say something to me.  That means a lot.

Marianne quoted W.H. Auden, and made me realize why poets are so crazy awesome.  He said, "Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic."

Grandpa McGarrah was 96.  Even though he was healthy, we obviously knew he wouldn't live much longer.  But still, we went about our picnicking, ignoring the distant rumbling.  And then the storm hit and killed the fun.  I don't think anyone can ever truly be prepared for death, theirs or someone else's.  It is always a shock.

All this makes me wonder if I am a good friend.  Do I call people or leave them messages when someone in their family dies?  Am I liberal with my hugs?  Do I live life boldly even with thunder echoing in the background?  Do I make sure people know I love them, so that they will not die unsure?