Shakespeare discussed Death in several of his works. In one he called Death “the Undiscovered Country.” In another the gravedigger tells Hamlet that he “went to work the day you [Hamlet] were born.”
These are two of the central themes of our fear of Death: the fact that we don’t know what’s on the other side and that the fact is inevitable for all of us. Death is the universal condition.
Life itself is a sexually transmitted fatal disease.
And life itself has trials; it’s own challenges to survival. It doesn’t matter if you are a homeless person dodging rats in the night or the pampered son of kings in a lavish silken bed.
What’s so great about life anyway? It IS hard. The longer we live the more age steals away vitality, memories and companionship. Eventually, we all return to the soil.
But then what? Thinking of Death is like conjuring up a dark void. It is the closet in children’s bedroom – it’s the monster under the bed – it is the shadow rustling in the leaves as we walk past a forest alone at night.
I first became aware of my own mortality in a dream when I was about ten. I saw myself walking down a long sidewalk at night. No one else is in sight, just me walking under streetlights next to dark homes.
I became aware of someone walking behind me. For some reason the person frightened me so I walked faster. No matter how fast I walked or ran, the person was closer every time I looked back he was closer.
Finally, my dream self could run no more. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I turned around to face my own decaying corpse. The shock woke me up, heart pounding and short of breath. But I knew even then the meaning. Death is coming for me and nothing can change that fact.
I’m a Christian and I know what I believe, but their is something inside all of us that fears the end. Who is better off?
– Is it the 19year old Soldier who dies suddenly in battle?
– Is it the 42 year old cop and father killed saving an innocent?
– Is it a 67year old grandmother who dies two days after seeing her fifth great grandchild born?
– Or is it the 58year old man dying of painful illness after two years in the hospital?
The quality of life affects our readiness for death. The quality of our death matters as much. Every man dies, not everyone has a good reason to die or leaves behind legacy worth remembering.
In the end . . . is only the end. We all die. If there’s time, we even can choose to embrace death or we can go down fighting.
Either way, we still go through that dark door into the undiscovered country . . . in the end.
