Death

I have stepped over dead Japanese soldiers in the jungles of Peleliu. I have lived through the deaths of my parents, eight brothers and sisters, a grandson, my oldest son, and my wife of 63 years. Plus many friends and distant relations. I grieve for the loss of these people; I grieve for some every day. I miss them and feel their absence. I hope that there is life after death. My son in law was recently at his 94 year old Mother’s funeral. His four year old grand daughter, my youngest great grandchild, wanted to go up to the open casket. She stared for a while and then said “I will see you in heaven, MeeMaw.” I pray that she will.

I am familiar with death. I feel my death will be soon. I think about death a lot.  I am ready to die. Like Woody Allen, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.

Since my youth I believe that I have had a strong fatalist belief, but I really do not believe in predestination.  However, when I was overseas in the Army I felt that when my time came I would be killed. I did not feel real fear even when shrapnel was falling around me. One night on Okinawa I was on sentry duty. Across the island several miles away an ammunition dump was exploding . Shards of metal fell out of the sky for several hours. They made a terrifying sound as they fell, you could imagine they were going to land on your head. I remember feeling uneasy but I was not terrified.

At one time we were in tents, sleeping on cots. Each man had dug a foxhole outside of the tent. When we occasionally came under an artillery attack every one would run out and get in their foxhole. More often that not I would roll over and continue sleeping in my comfortable cot instead of running out and getting in a muddy foxhole. I do not know if that was bravery or stupidity. I think it was my fatalist belief.

Today at 88 I evidently do not have such a strong fatalistic belief. I take nine prescription drugs every day. They are for blood pressure, anti seizure control, bladder health, gout and vascular health. I would like to throw them all out, but I guess my fatalistic belief is not that strong. I really would not want to throw out the one that allows me to urinate. I think that I would like to keep on urinating until I die.

I do not intend to end my life by artificial means. I am speaking of suicide. Two of my three brothers shot themselves. I have gone to some trouble obtaining a license to carry a concealed weapon. For some time I have carried a small pistol in my pocket. I have decided to stop this and to not keep a firearm with me. I think that the risk of using a gun against myself is greater than the need to carry self-protection. I do get depressed. I do not want to risk imposing the trauma of suicide on my loved ones. I keep pushing buttons that keep me interested.

Death is a interesting, even fascinating thing, but I think that I will wait for my time to come.