You know, ever since I’ve been a child, I’ve always had a very vivid imagination. I’d play different scenarios and scenes out in my head – some real, and some not so much. Some playful or completely farfetched – the dreams of an innocent child - and some downright scary. Not much has changed, because I still do that exact thing to this day and sometimes I have to check myself as a reminder of what has actually happened, and what I made up.
“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”
I attribute my imagination to the fact that I’m an only child, always at liberty from a young age to dream and make up stories to keep myself very busy and very entertained – I can honestly say that boredom is a foreign concept to me. My innate love and passion for books and words and writing also has a lot to do with my imagination.
This same imagination is what made me stay in Jo’burg when I first moved here in 2007. Instead of feeling entirely frightened and completely out of my depth, in a space which most would classify as “rock bottom”, I had the ability to romanticise my situation. On the day I moved into my first flat (which I shared with my Portuguese housemate who was hardly ever at home), it rained very hard and relentlessly. I didn’t have a bed to sleep on, but only an inflatable mattress (and I didn’t tighten the valve enough, so woke up on the hard floor for many weeks). I hadn’t had time to buy food before I moved in due to the crazy shifts I was working at Hertz rent-a-car, so cup-a-soup was my saving grace…until the power went out.
So there I sat, chilled to the bone. No electricity. No food. No friends. On a flat mattress. I remember that day so well. And it had the potential to completely dishearten and disarm me, but instead I had the ability to imagine myself as a damsel in distress. Only a few seconds away from being rescued.
It’s always the darkest before the dawn.
And then the sun came out the next day, a welcome reminder that I survived the night.
I slayed the dragon.
And over the years, I’ve slayed many dragons. But one: death.
One “imagination game” I used to play when I was young, was where I’d ask myself: “If someone said you had to choose between your own life and your mother’s, whose would you choose?” In my head, I’d die for my mom. Not even blinking. “If Jesus asked you to die for His sake right now, would you?” Yes. Still not blinking. Fearless.
Over the years, my “imagination game” has changed slightly and is much less macabre. Me: “Would you eat a pig’s eye for five million dollars?” Adam: “No”. Me: “It’s FIVE MILLION DOLLARS (just in case he misheard me the first time). His answer is always “no”, for those who are interested – no matter how silly the task, or how obscene the amount of cash.
Anyway, back to the topic of death (I know, heavy for a Tuesday, but bear with me).
I’m not so sure if I’d be able to answer my own questions with such surety anymore – whether real or imaginary. Because truth be told, death scares me. The fact that my parents are in all probability going to die before for me – if we were all to live to a hundred – breaks my heart and I struggle to even type these sentences. The fact that Adam is in all probability going to die before me – if we were all to live to a hundred – leaves me feeling like I just got punched in the stomach. The fact that we are all going to die before Eli – if we were all to live to a hundred…I can’t even deal with it.
“Death is just a part of life. You cannot escape it. It is the great equaliser. We are all going to die. The only thing certain in life is death and taxes. Till death do us part. Oh those shoes are to die for. I died a thousand deaths. You’re killing me man…” The list of stupid idioms and sayings goes on and on ad infinitum. Some people like making jokes about death to lighten the situation, whereas I don’t find the subject funny or amusing at all. I’m dead serious.
Poets have been bemused by the subject of death for centuries, often romanticising it:
Death, Be Not Proud – John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Out, out – Robert Frost
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
And my personal favourite…
Do not go gentle into that good night – Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Of course, many people would tell me that I’m silly to be afraid of dying. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” And I agree to an extent – how can one be afraid of something that one hasn’t experienced before, can’t relate to on a physical level and has no point of reference to? There are many people who claim that they have “been to heaven” or “been to hell”, and they’ve sold millions of books to people who are hungry to get a glimpse of what to expect. Not for me.
I’m not afraid of the actual process of death, but I think what gets me is what it implies. What it means. How it feels to the people who are left behind. I’ve lost a baby who I never even got to hold in my arms. I’ve lost people in my life who were very important and dear to me, people who I still miss to this day…and that’s why it hurts so much. They were important to my life. They changed me. Them dying, probably affected me more that it affected them – as obscure as that might sound. I can no longer pick up the phone to call them, although I’m sure they no longer have the need or desire to phone me. It’s all about me, really. They’re in the “better place” (what a crap thing to say to someone who’s just lost a friend, family member, child, spouse or even canary, by the way).
John 14:1-4 “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.”
2 Corinthians 5:6-8 So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.
John 11:23-26 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
Philippians 1:23-24 I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.
Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…
And my personal favourite…
Romans 8:38-39 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
This is how God takes me by the hand, and He shows me. He reassures me. I have nothing to be afraid of. Some days I have to constantly pray that God will bring peace and reassurance into my heart. God knows – more than anyone – how painful death can be. After all, He sacrificed His only son. Jesus had to die so that we can live. And I mean truly LIVE. So many people were directly affected by His death. They tasted the pain of loss, saw the precious blood spill from His side, and watched Him draw His last breath. Oh, the emptiness that His presence would have left in their lives. He was Mary’s son. Joseph was His father. He had brothers and sisters. Friends who were closer than family. They mourned Him. They missed Him. They wished things were different. He even wished that there was another way out, but accepted His fate.
And I think it’s for this reason that God is able to console us when we stand face to face with death: whether it is because we just lost someone, or whether it is Him waiting for us when He calls us to be with him forever – He truly knows. He’ll be the first person we see, holding us tightly in his arms. Welcoming us home.
Yes, I will miss the smell of my laundry hanging on the line, the feeling of the grass tickling my toes. Eli lying on my chest, me inhaling the sweet swell of his hair – the epitome of a baby shampoo commercial – his curls so soft. My favourite sweater against my skin. The feeling of Adam’s arms around me, the feeling of safety, his beard nuzzling my cheek. Ink against paper. Heartbeats. Butterflies in my stomach. Brain freeze because I can’t resist eating ice cream too fast. Dancing in the lounge to my favourite music. Our home. Taking something out of the oven, my glasses misting up, my fingers tingling. Laughing until I cry. The smell of books. Being in love. Being loved.
Even more reason why I need to savour and drink in every day, every experience. Every “I love you”. Every “I need you”. Every “be my friend”. Every “choose the right way”. Every “help me”. Every “forgive me”. Every “show me Jesus”.
I can honestly say that writing this post has caught me completely off guard and I’m sitting here, bawling my eyes out.
Seems like death is not what I should be afraid of. God will not let anything bad happen to me, or anyone who loves Him - instead He has paved the way for us in gold. What I need to “fear” is not living. The opposite of death is life.
And I’m still alive.
Can’t say the same about the dragon.
