death

Death is such a funny thing, I mean, funny in a not so funny way.  I tend to stay far away from hospitals, breathing apparatuses… and just everything of that genre.

But the other day, I had to go to the hospital to visit my Aunt (actually my great Aunt, but we always just called her Aunt, like the regular kind), and have yet another encounter and be near death.  It’s been just over a year since my Grandma passed away, but the feeling is still all too real, even as I was missing her today.

Anyway, hospitals.  I don’t think I’ve been to the hospital to visit someone since my Grandpa died, in the summer of 2006, but walking in through those double doors, and down the hall to ICU only brought back memories of him, and of course my Grandma.

I tried not to think about it, but when my Mom called as I was working yesterday, I knew why she was calling.  I work at the church, so I had already heard the situation was critical, but still, I agreed to visit the hospital in my parents brief absence, even though she was sedated at the time.  I went about my work, then threw on my jacket, and decided just to walk over, since the hospital isn’t far from the church.  On the way, I really didn’t think about how it would feel, I didn’t want to.  But then again, maybe I just shouldn’t think about it, since it wasn’t really about ME at all.

I stayed for maybe an hour, visiting with her caregiver, and another relative (I honestly can’t even tell you how she’s related to us… we have so many interesting extended family connections, and just don’t really know them too well).

Her breathing and heart rate was irregular, but the only thing I could think about was my Grandpa, and remembering seeing him in a similar fashion, almost 6 years ago.

I wasn’t close with my Aunt, we never spent much time with her, you know, life is busy. My Dad knew her well and cared for her a lot over these past 8 or so years, when her health worsened.

Death is just so interesting, not funny, just so weird and intriguing.  I’m so uncomfortable being around it, because it just seems so wrong to sit in the same room where someone is dying and reminisce, laugh, tell stories about their lives, and be… so alive.

Someday I will die, and actually it will be a beautiful thing.  Seeing the face of God, seeing relatives that I’ve seen pass onto the other side.  It will be amazing.  But the scary, and more sobering thing to think about now is that so many around us don’t know Christ, and will not have heaven to look forward to.  They won’t experience a beautiful death, they don’t know what it’s like to have the peace of God.  This has been a topic of conversation with friends lately, and just realize the fragility of life.

Every breath is life, and a second chance to start again.  Just remember that, as you live and dance your way to death.

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