I’ve grudgingly decided that I think too much. Generally I mean.
Not in any way specific to one particular topic but my mind in general wanders and then I think. A lot. I overthink and I obsess. Then I think some more.
Today I was reluctantly babysitting the remnants of some international flu virus whilst dragging my protesting body around the house, trying to raise some semblance of order to its mildly neglected state. I like everything just so and often cast loving glances around my belongings, drinking in the feeling of home they give me. Today, however, my mind started to wander to the realms of mortality and I began to imagine what on earth would happen to all of this if there were no me to need it. I blame it entirely on Doctor G you see. My son is horrified that I avidly watch TV shows about autopsies..”even while you’re eating! YUK!!!” For my own part I find it tragically fascinating, although it does make one extremely aware of how limited an existence we can have.
Around the room my glance went as my overactive brain stripped away everything that was me. Footsteps in an empty room before a voice says ”Last tenant passed away, rather tragic it was too” NO!! Snatching up a teddy bear I hugged it comfortingly before assuring it I wouldn’t abandon it any time soon. Of course then I HAD to think about it for it was stuck in my brain and would not be quiet no matter how hard I tried to make it. I wonder just how long I DO have left? Oh, what if I should get run over by a bus tomorrow, should I write letters, for everyone might think I didn’t ever love them! Those that I didn’t might think that I do and that’s even worse!! What about the cat??
As I said I think too much. But on a serious side I couldn’t help but wonder how easily our lives are discarded and packed away like it never existed at all. Belongings that we so carefully hoard over many a year vanish leaving no trace of our personality behind. Those of us lucky enough to leave someone to mourn us eventually fade to a few photographs and disjointed memories before evaporating into nonexistence like we had never been. Cherished items mouldering in some back street charity shop, forgotten and unwanted.
Perhaps it is something that comes with age. Never before did I think about dying or not being here, yet all too often recently I am aware of how every year is a bonus. I think it would be arrogant of me to assume that I should get to live out as many years as I would like. Yes, if I am honest , I am a little afraid. Not of dying, but of dying before I am ready to go. So many places I want to go and so many things I want to do. I wonder if fate will give me the time I feel that I need. I wonder if I shall leave someone behind to care that I am gone.
Sometimes lately I feel afraid to go to sleep, terrified that this may be the last time I close my eyes. So irrational a fear yet so few of us get warning and I should not want to close my eyes so early for the final time. Yet I am so very aware that if this the case I should never even know that this was the end. I would not be here to know that I did not wake up. Blown out like the flame on a candle.
I wish I could choose a point in time and say ”That’s it. That’s when I want to go”. Be able to live free of the worry that my time might be shorter than I’d like. Sadly it just doesn’t work that way. So each night I close my eyes and fight the temptation to try and stay awake and pray as hard as I can that I get to open my eyes in the morning just the same as I did yesterday.