Who's Afraid of Death?

Don't let the post title mislead you.  I am not asking in a macho way by any means: "Who's afraid of death? NOT ME!"  If you took that way, I guess I mislead you.

I am asking as in, who ELSE is afraid of death?  Something you may not know about me is that I am someone who IS afraid of death.  In a big way.  I have anxiety about it.  I fear it - when it will strike, but more importantly, who it may strike.  I am afraid for my husband to die.  I am afraid for my kids to die.  I shudder at the thought of it.  What would I do?  How would I handle it? 

Now, I know I sound a bit morbid, but I don't even like to talk about life insurance and everything that entails, much less the subject of death.  So why am I bringing it up then?  I guess, like in therapy, we need to talk about the things that bother us.  For some reason, I felt like I needed to talk about death. 

I had never had to deal with death of someone close to me - really close to me - until the year before last.  My grandmother died in May of 2010.  Now, I know you hear about someone's grandparent passing away and you normally just don't get as sad for them as you would if, say, it was their parent or child that had passed away, right?  I mean, not that you don't feel for them, but for most people, grandparent relationships are usually not as close as parent/child relationships.  But, my relationship with my grandmother was different.  I had grown up and lived with she and my grandfather for most of my life.  My mother and brother, too - all of us together.  My grandparents adopted me and my grandmother, literally, was my second mother.  I could talk to her about anything and she was like a best friend to me.  She loved Jesus and she made sure that we all went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night.  She also loved every person she met and she gave anyone a chance.  She genuinely cared and she showed it.  She would cook meals for the needy and take me with her to deliver them.  She was the kindest and smartest person that I have ever known in my life.  And her laugh...it was contagious.

She died because she smoked cigarettes.  Over the years, the COPD slowly stole the air from her lungs.  It wasn't an unexpected death, but I was still in denial until I got the phone call from my brother early one morning telling me that she was gone.  I can hear his voice like it was yesterday. 

I had been to see her several days before she died.  I just sat with her in her room and watched her sleep.  I looked through old photo albums and remembered all of the times from the past.  I touched her hair and face and held her hands.  I told her over and over that I loved her.  The last words she spoke to me were, "I love you, too, Jillbo.  Very much.  I love you just as much as I could have loved anybody.  Don't you ever forget it."  I have never forgotten and I never will. 

So, when I start to worry about death, I think of her and how she would have told me not to worry.  How she would have told me that I shouldn't have to worry because Jesus is there for us.  Even in death.  I wish my kids could have known her better, but I know she is watching over them.  Watching over all of us.  And, knowing that she is up there makes me feel just a little bit better about the whole concept of death.

I guess my whole point in writing this post is to let you know that you should not live afraid of what is to come, such as death, but live in the moment and be thankful for today.  It sounds so cliche, but it's true.  This is going to be my New Year's resolution - for this year and the years to come. 

And, every night, while I am rocking Mallory before bed I tell her, "I love you, Mallory.  Very much."  I'm not going to ever let her forget it.  I won't let any of them forget it.