Well there you have it, the topic I’ve been mulling over lately, death and dying. Why? I’m not sure apart from I generally
think about it sometimes more so than others, depending on the situation or circumstances at present. Right now I suppose it’s because I found out my last grandparent has dementia. She’s in her 80’s but last year when I saw her she was sharp and doing well according to a recent(then recent) medical inspection. So when I found out she had Dementia with Lewy Bodies I got a little…hmm, contemplative I guess. My grandmother was a very abusive woman to my mother and didn’t apologize until late in my mom’s life, and only after my mom pushed the subject. Perhaps you can understand then my less than overly affectionate feelings towards her. Mom kept me from seeing my grandmother when I was a child because she was so angry with her. I was fed lots of negative stories about her and I have no doubt they were very true, thus I didn’t miss her.
Then when I was an adult and my mom reached out to her mother a relationship was established-not a strong one but it was something. A few years passed and my mother forgot the repairs to the relationship as her Early on-set Alzheimer’s took hold of her memory. So the relationship drifted. All this is to explain why I’m not overly emotional about my grandmother’s dementia diagnosis. It’s complicated when you’ve gone so long without any connection then try forging one when you’re an adult. I guess the death piece entered my mind because it’s been 4 years since my mom died and my grandmother has been declining in her health ever since. Primarily she had depression and understandable guilt from having been a terrible mother. Now she has dementia. I can only guess at how long she’ll last but I have a hunch it won’t be as long as expected for the specific condition she has. My intuition is she’ll go early from grief. How does one ever truly reconcile out living one’s child knowing your part in it was to blame? I suppose she could live years, but I think months are more likely. A boat load of guilt is hard to live with for very long. But she might surprise me and live a few more years yet.
Lately I’ve been wondering about what happens to the soul once the body dies. I’m not Christian so don’t believe in
Heaven. But I have my own ideas on where the soul goes. I should mention I don’t believe in Hell either. I’m quite certain we make our own Hell here on earth. I’d venture to share with you my theory about the “afterlife” but this blog isn’t focused on that; also I don’t think it’s fair to get into a host of metaphysical discussions when I’ve marketed this as a place for sharing my thoughts on abuse, mental health and spirituality(in a general sense). So I’ll spare you the speculations I have about what happens when we die.
How many of you regularly think about death(in a broad sense)? including your own death? Is it something you fear or accept?