Thoughts on Death

No really, not just idle conjectures and rambling theories. My wife's mother died about two weeks ago. About a week before that, I was drinking Arrack at her residence home, a bit bored while Brigitte arranged her room. Her mother just looked a bit bewildered, but happy that we were there.

I wasn't a bit bored when I saw some burly young Quebec men on a gunmetal-grey day lower her coffin into the ground.

But what actually happened to Brigitte's mother? I only use her example here because it was the newest, and closest example of human death that I've experienced. I know what Brigitte went through. What did I go through? Total bewilderment mixed with some sort of grim resignation -- some odd thing that always kicks in when you hear of anyone you know who has died. It's always a very scared feeling, such as: oh my god, how is that going to effect me/us/anyone? And then always the odd feeling of pity for the deceased, as if they needed to be here more, that they didn't want to go, that they didn't DESERVE to go . . . and that always, there's that quantifying scale we always seem to come up with, based on a complicated formula of age + deterioration + expectedness (or lack thereof) that no one wrote any books on yet we all seem instinctively to know.

But what actually happened to her? And to my father, and my brother, both gone now many years? They still exist, fiercely so, in my mind, in photos, in videos, in other people's recollections . . . but they're not here. It's still hard to wrap your mind around the fact that they never will ever be here again, in any way, wish or form.

So what happened to them? They, I'm sure, would be the first to want to know.

The thing is, deep inside, I know what happened to them. All of them. As I know what is going to happen to me. They simply stopped. Why is it so hard to grasp that? They stopped, but not in a Place. There is no Place where they stopped. If you really think about it, where were you before you were born? Before you were a sperm or an egg among trillions and trillions who never made it, where were you? Are you afraid of being in that place again? Of course not. Because there wasn't a Place, and there was no You.

In fact, as far as you're concerned, there was no you before your first-ever memory. Are you afraid of that place, where you were before your first-ever memory? Of course you aren't. Other people were aware of you, but you weren't.

And that is where Brigitte's mother is now. In a place where she isn't aware of herself, but other people are. She doesn't know other people love her, but other people do. Just like your cat doesn't really know you love her . . . but you do. Pat your cat and think of that.

There, see? Not too much to be afraid of.