The fear of death poses us many problems of substantial magnitude and serious consequence.
I love to sit and visit with strangers met by chance in some favoured coffee shop.
I was sprinkled shortly following my birth.
I was fully immersed at the age of thirty.
At sixty I journeyed to the land of my birth, Friesland. I walked the lanes of the village where I was born. Stood in the Church where I had been sprinkled, all those years ago.
I had come to stand by the grave of my paternal grandfather, for whom I was named. Standing there, having come full circle, I embraced my own death; agreeing to all of its terms and conditions. I walked away a dying body animated by a living and learning soul.
I know the moment of death is waiting and I anticipate its appearing. I only hope there is a little poetry possible and a lot of love present. Would be delighted to round out the sequence by slipping away at ninety. Not sure I'd care to go till 120.
Bleeding out after being crashed into at some intersection, just two blocks from home, does not appeal to me in the least.
But I accept it.
George