Doomed To Die

We are all doomed to die.

From the moment of our conception we start the long, slow process of death and decay. That is the cornerstone of life. I could be wrong about the timing, but death is definitely in my future and yours. Hopefully, it is a long way in time away from this particular instant.

I am certainly closer to death than birth and surprisingly, I am just not that bothered by it. Oh, I have no intention of going very early but go I will eventually. I received an email from one of my cousins catching me up on what is going on in the family. Her dad passed away last year at 95 years of age and his sister is still going strong at 95. Well, perhaps “going strong” just means vertical and breathing. I like the idea that somewhere buried deep in my DNA there is a strand that says “Give this guy another thirty years or so.” The idea of collecting my pension for that long gives me a warm feeling inside.

The longevity picture isn’t all positive though. My dad passed away when he was 73 and theoretically his chances for a long life were equal to his two siblings and his mother who lived into her nineties. I guess luck has a little to do with it.

Dad passed 18 years ago today. This is traditionally a morose kind of day for me. I can still remember my boss finding me on the street and telling me that I had to go home right away. I wanted to finish my work but he insisted I go home. He didn’t tell me why, but I suspected that I would get sad news when I arrived home. I thought that my mom had passed since she was the sickly one. Fate had different plans though.

I often find myself wishing that dad was here still. He would have loved Hurricane, Tornado and Tsunami so very much. He would have laughed with me when I told him what they had been up to and he would have shared my pride at what wonderful children I have raised. It is all due to him really. He is the standard I have for being a good father. If the kids ever want to thank anyone for the people they are, it is due in a large part to my dad.

I don’t believe there is a Heaven. I wish I did. Nothing would be better at the moment of my death than to be greeted by dad and welcomed into the afterlife. He would be able to tell me that he had kept an eye on me and mine ever since he passed. He could say that I had done a fine job and should be proud of the life I have lived. That would make me pretty happy.

I think that for today I will pretend that there is an afterlife and I will get to hear him laugh once more and see him smile. If I can for a moment believe in that pleasant afterlife, then I don’t mind being doomed to die.