"On Death.....and Life"

One could say it was a chance encounter, but when I met "Death" yesterday it was like running headlong into a wall.  When I told my children of it I told them I didn't know what I was feeling.  The starkness of it, the reality, the image remaining in my mind was unexpected. 

As is usual on a Monday afternoon, I had finished mowing Lucille's yard and was heading up to Carolyn's.  Halfway up the hill I came upon it.  Death, that is.  I noticed the two police cars parked next to the curb with the yellow tape.  As I got closer my eyes took in the body lying on the sidewalk, covered by a blue surgical sheet.  There was no indication of an accident, no sense of violence as there was no urgency on the part of the police officer talking on the phone, just that of finality.

Death does not frighten me.  In fact, I think about it often.  I'm not morbid nor grim, but I do have a curiosity about it.  What happens when this physical body gives out?  When I hear of one who has died I wonder where they are and what they are doing.  I recently read a book, "Proof of Heaven," written by a neurosurgeon who had severe bacterial meningitis and was in a deep coma for a week.  Not only did he live, but he fully recovered.  He writes of what he experienced during that week.  This is one of the reasons death fascinates me.  

I am of the belief that we have been created eternal beings, in the image of our Creator.  Given that, I feel that this life is just the beginning, that eternal life continues on after our physical death.  My own personal experiences and accounts have brought me to this.

My Mother was in an Alzheimer's state for 10 years.  Anyone with a similar experience can relate and knows how difficult communication is.  However, there are moments of clear lucidity before the confusion takes over.  At one point I was visiting Mom.  "Visiting" is a loose use of that word as you well know.  I was surprised when she looked at me and said, "I was walking down a road and came up to a door.  The door opened, and there He stood, just as big as life."  "Who, Mom?" I asked.  "Well, God, who do you think?"  Living with a grave fear of God at that point in my life I said, "Were you afraid of Him?"  "Well, no, should I have been?"  And then she spoke no more. 

I do feel that what we call death is simply a transition into the next stage, that we will continue living, just in a different way, in a different place.  In a sense it's no different than our physical life.  We'll either continue living with God or without Him.  And it is as simple as walking through a door.

I will probably think about the one lying on the sidewalk for quite a while.  I doubt the image will ever leave my mind.  As I have begun to process the experience the one thing that has struck me is the solitary experience of death, the aloneness.  It is true that we enter the world alone, we leave it alone, and we take nothing of this earth with us.  Preparation for the next life is a good thing.