Terminal Life

The other day in physics class, we were reminded of terminal velocity – a point where the free falling human body can travel downward no faster due to the friction of the air pushing upward.

Now I am reminded of the point where life can no longer exist in a human body.

This morning I learned that one of my friends had been killed in a random accident.

Stunned was the word that best described my reaction.

Death had stuck swiftly and without discretion causing a gap in life. Death had stolen someone I knew, someone I had spent a lot of time with, someone who was the brother of a close friend, and someone who I didn’t want to go. I suppose what I’m trying to say, is that my friend’s death hit rather close.

Why?

I have never understood the logic in the death of the young. I am aware that Death keeps our planet from becoming overpopulated, prevents people from literally decaying while still alive, and provides some sort of “escape” for the terminally ill, but….really – someone in the prime of life?

My religious upbringing tells me that my friend is in a better place, that my friends’ work on Earth was done, that God had planned this for the good of all involved. From an apathetic standpoint, Fate intervened in a promising life, and right now, Fate is quite unappreciated.

I do not mind if Death strikes without premonition, but stay out of my circle of friends and acquaintances.

No rational human being enjoys when Death comes near and certainly no decent human being deserves the pain caused by Death’s visit.

Death has never made me cry because I do not want Death to know how much he has actually hurt me.

I remember when my grandpa died. I was 12 years old but refused to weep simply because I refused the reality of his passing to strike home. Yes, I was aware that he was gone forever and I accepted his passing on a rational level, but I refused to let my emotional or psychological self work out what is normally known as the grief process.

I suppose it’s my pride and introvertedness that keep me from crying, but for some reason when something strikes close it’s almost as if I can turn off my emotions and deal with it coldly and logically.

Death used to scare me, but not so much anymore. I definitely do not look forward to any pain or suffering that might precede death, but Death in itself is not really feared by me.

What I do hate is when Death takes people I know.

What I dread is the day when Death takes one of the few that I like.

And what I fear is the day when Death steals one of the two or three that I love.

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