Do not fear death so much but rather the inadequate life.– Bertolt Brecht

I don’t like to get too negative in this space as I want it to be a reflection of the life I want to remember, however, sometimes there is just this aching need to write what I need to write because I feel what I feel.

Death is something that I have an enormous amount of trouble accepting. I have pretty much every phobia in the book and I think it all leads back with the fact that I cannot deal with death. I find myself wishing that I could convince myself to participate in some sort of religion that would put me at peace with the end of life. Unfortunately, I just can’t bring myself to believe in anything when there are so many contrasting beliefs. So instead I go through life in utter fear of having someone I love taken from me or to be taken myself and to have my loved ones have to go through pain. To know that sooner, rather than later my grandmother will join the rest of my grandparents and then later on in life everyone I know will eventually be gone stabs at my heart more regularly than it has in the past.  I find tears coming to my eyes at the thought even though there are no valid reasons to think that anyone I love will be leaving soon.