The Fear of Dying

I am a pretty fearful person. I don't necessarily like that about myself, but it's an indisputable fact. 

For instance, I'm terrified of heights and anything that involves heights. I can't explain it but my knees get weak and I have to fight the urge to curl into a fetal position.You might think that I'm talking about things like the Empire State Building (which I flatly refuse to enter, by the way), but I'm also prone to freak out in things like parking decks. For my fellow Roccers, here is a relevant example. I parked in the top level of the Damon deck the other day and almost had a heart attack waiting for the elevator. Why is it so OPEN up there? I made Addie stand against the wall the whole time. She thought I was nuts. And I definitely probably am, but fear is NOT rational.

Fear of heights also leads to fear of flying. And elevators. And roller coasters. I used to force myself to go on roller coasters until one day I realized that it was supposed to be fun and I just wasn't having all that much fun (I think it was the tears rolling down my face that clued me in).

And I pretty much don't swim in the ocean anymore because I'm so afraid of sharks. I know the statistics and I know they don't want to eat people (thank you, God!) but still, if you are in the ocean then you are swimming near sharks. And I don't care to enter into the food chain anywhere but on the top, thanks very much.

Other things that I'm afraid of include, but are not limited to: alligators, snakes, spiders, killer virus epidemics, aliens, crazy serial killers, and dentists.

So this is already a pretty extensive list and I haven't even gotten to my point yet.

Lately, I've been terrified of dying. I'm not sick, I'm not engaging in any risky behaviors (no skydiving...heights again!), but I am flat panicked about dying.

Part of that is because I live with a man that is literally dealing with death and grief every day on the orthopedic oncology unit. And some of those deaths and impending deaths seem very untimely and very unfair and it is hard to hear about and witness, even secondhand. The doctors that do this every day are heroes, honestly. To say nothing of the patients and their families. Heavens. Even thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

It's difficult to hear these stories about doctors and patients grappling with mortality and not consider your loved ones and yourself in the same situation. Four years ago I think this would have been easier for me. But now, I am a mother. And the thought of leaving Addie and Graydon behind is frankly terrifying to me.  My mind quickly runs amok thinking of how they'd have a hole in their lives forever, how they'd never really get over that loss, how unfair it would be to lose a mother so young.

As if "fair" is a concept that has anything to do with life. As if I am promised, guaranteed, owed a certain number of years and days with my family. As if there isn't a single day that goes by without some family somewhere hurting over an untimely, "unfair" death. Just since I started working on this post I've had three loved ones lose other loved ones at ages 19, 54, and 32 respectively. All of the deaths were shockingly sudden and all are deeply grieved.

It scares me. I am afraid that I too have a blood clot forming all unknowing, ready to race to my lungs or heart and end my time here. Or that there is an aneurysm waiting to bloom and burst with deadly consequences somewhere in my brain. Or that while I am laughing and playing, my cells are quietly multiplying and forming into malignant masses.

In these moments of anxiety, I run to God. I pray with barely contained hysteria, a jet engine shriek aimed towards heaven "Please God, don't let me die yet. Please please please keep my family and myself safe."

The answer I'm looking for goes something like this "My dear child, of course you are not dying! You will be the first human since Methuselah to live almost a thousand years, along with everyone you know!" 

That doesn't happen.

Instead God asks me why I'm so scared of death. And I tell Him that I fear dying before I'm finished with my work here. That I fear that I am indispensable. That my family couldn't take another blow like that. That my children wouldn't be OK. That my husband wouldn't ever forgive Him. I remind Him that I love so many people and so many people love me that He really should consider making sure I live a super long time. You know, just in case He has other ideas.

And I'm just guessing here, but I'm thinking maybe God feels in these moments what I like to call "Sigh-Cot-Ic". This is how I feel when Addie asks me for the 500th time what I'm doing, or eating, or drinking, or can she please watch Dora again? And I sigh and remind her again of what I just said 10 seconds earlier (and 30 seconds before that, and 60 seconds before that, and so on..)"Cooking. Cheese. Tea. No." while trying not to lose my ever lovin' mind.

But He is patient and He reminds me of what I already know: which is that perfect love casts out all fear. And then He reminds me of why that is so. Because of course no one loves my loved ones like God does. And anything that happens to them will eventually be used by the Great Father for good in this world. As impossible as it seems, if I leave my family before I am ready, there will somehow be a blessing that will come from that trial. I won't see it, but I know this to be true.

There have been moments of crippling pain in my own life where I questioned God's plan, His love, and His promises. But I am seeing some of those bitter seasons in my life begin to bear fruit, and I promise to blog about that later . And it reminds me again that I just don't have the wisdom or perspective to appreciate the entire story when I'm in the throes of one chapter.

And frankly, when would I ever be ready to leave my family and friends (and chocolate)? For that matter, if my own mother was taken from me now, it would be just as profound and painful at 31 as it would have been at 21 or 11. Because you are never ready to surrender your loved ones. We are made to cherish life and we cling to it. That is our job while we're here.

And that is really what it comes down to isn't it? Cherishing life while we're here, I mean. God willing, I will leave this Earth old, loved, and content. But if not, I remember that when I leave, that my death is actually my gain. That while it would be a sore loss for my family, it would be a joy for me to see clearly what we can only perceive dimly through mortal eyes. I would not be angry, or bitter, or afraid. I would be running straight into the arms of love. I would be going home. And that is a thought that instantly banishes my fear and reminds that me that is good to be here now, living fully, loving deeply, and trusting fearlessly. And I am able to put aside anxiety and breathe easy again, feeling nothing but joy in the life I have and the lives I am privileged to share.

It is true. Perfect love does cast out all fear.

And I am pretty sure that Heaven is going to have some chocolate in it. I'm just sayin...