What does death teach us about life?
Some people are never prompted to contemplate this question. Maybe they’re blessed with perfect health, a natural resistance to accidents, or a whole lot of luck. Whatever the reason, they are happy to carry on in their routine, unhindered by their own mortality.
Most of us are not so fortunate, though, and we eventually come face-to-face with our own death or the death of someone we love. And we can’t help but be changed by it. We can no longer carry on as before, trusting in a secure future, possessing only a vague impression of death as something that happens late in life, an experience so remote as to belong to someone else. Instead, we develop a more personal relationship with our own mortality.
Before my brother-in-law, Ruairi, died, I used to have a fairly optimistic outlook on life. I didn’t worry much about my own well-being or the well-being of my family and friends. I was the one reassuring my anxious husband that everything would be okay, nothing bad would happen, and that everything would work out. And for the most part, I was sure. I trusted in our welfare in the very sense of the word: health, happiness, and prosperity.
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And this is the element of my personality that has shifted with Ruairi’s passing. I still catch myself responding to fear with reassurance—mine is a stubborn optimism—but my thoughts or words are immediately checked by a new voice, one that warns, “Well, that’s not really true. Anything can happen, anytime, regardless of what you think or feel.” This voice is the opposite of optimistic; this voice is bleak and distrustful. Because now I know that life—my life or the lives of those I love—can end in minutes. I no longer possess the trust in well-being I once had, and because of that, it’s a little harder to push back the fear in my heart, the racing in my veins, or the uneasiness in my gut. I know that I am not in control, and that I never was.
But even as I am aware of this fundamental—and some might say morbid—shift in my outlook, I can also see the lesson in it. I may have lost my unwavering optimism, but I have gained a better perspective on life, one that urges me to live life to the fullest. I’ve had a terrible reminder that we do not live forever, that we are fragile, and that our time will come to an end. I’ve learned that youth is no protection against that end, no guarantee against death, and that our youth should be spent living life rather than preparing for an old age that may never come.
Just as my shifted outlook has changed me, my new perspective has altered the way I live my life. I am no longer waiting, no longer concerned with accumulating wealth and property for a life to be lived at some later date. I’m no longer taking the job I don’t want, studying the subject that doesn’t energize me, or carrying on the relationship that doesn’t add value to my life. I am living now. I am using this time to learn more about myself, the people around me, and the world I live in.
I’ve learned to let a little risk into my life. Now I strive to lean into uncertainty, knowing that there is no certainty in life, regardless of the job, the house, the car, or how carefully we plan. And I’m still afraid, even more so now that my trust has been shaken, but instead of letting my fear hold me back as I once would have, I let it be my reminder that I am alive, at this moment, no matter what may come later, and that if I am not in control of my death, I am at least in control of my life.
Read from East to West by Ravi Zacharias.
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