Waiting for Death

Once talking with my mom I told her that if I ever get alzheimer’s or start losing my mind,  I just want someone to shoot me. But when I thought about it more, I can’t really deny that death scares me. I think, even with religion, death scares people to some point. Which is why when we are in wheelchairs and slowly losing our mind and bodies, we still want to be alive. There may not be a reason in the grand scheme of things, but we don’t want to miss anything. Even with religion to lean on, even a pastor mourns when a loved one is gone, partly because they can’t enjoy that persons presence anymore, but because nothing after life is really guaranteed; humans don’t really know what will happen. Thinking about the Eskimos or Native Americans walking off once they reach a certain age kind of represents death because you know they are leaving to somewhere else, but you just don’t know where. Despite all this, we do love our grandparents, and great grandparents, and are happy to have them. But we cannot deny the burden they are, but everyone is a burden to a point. Even though I promised myself I won’t die until I reach 100, I don’t want my death to just be a relief to those around me.