The Grim Reaper is an entity never far from my thoughts. I often imagine what it will be like to die, what will happen afterward to this collection of cells, and what will happen to the ones that I care about, who are few in number, and the ones that I'm acquainted with, a much greater number, and the human race as a whole, which encompasses everyone now living and those yet to arrive.
The physical aspect of death is scary enough. I imagine
the worst pain I've ever experienced and multiply it tenfold. The thought of such pain is terrifying. Fear is enough for most people to avoid potentially fatal situations such as playing "chicken" with speeding cars. Worse is knowing, right before the end, that there will be no second chances, that the change is irreversible. I am reminded of the sad look on my Grandmother's face when she was in the hospital. She knew she was going to die and said little. But I have no doubt she would have liked to get better, even if it meant giving up the use of an arm or leg, or even both arms and both legs, anything to live a bit longer. She would very much have liked to have relocated her consciousness to another body, not displacing anyone, but cohabiting. I would gladly have hosted her consciousness, although radical adjustments would have been necessary on both sides. Perhaps the technology for such an arrangement will become available in the future, too late for my readers and me.
As for physical remains, it is humbling to accept that this body that one has taken such pains to keep clean, whole and fortified will become food for microorganisms and insects or else burnt to ashes. There is an insane fear that one might regain consciousness at a late state of decomposition to discover that one's nose, mouth or eyeballs are being devoured by worms. It is distressing to imagine other people coming upon one's corpse and being grossed out, even nauseated by the sight or smell. How embarrassing! But then, where will the embarrassment originate?
As for my dear friends, which is to say, my family and partner, the "leave" is all-important. That is, the manner and state in which I departed would be the essential thing. I would want to feel like I did well, not leaving things undone that needed to be done, and not doing things that should not be done. One does not wish to be despised, with people pissing on one's grave, but mourned truly as a genuine loss and recognized, if not as a hero, then as a basically good fellow no worse than any other sort. That is why no one should envy such villains as Khadaffy, who though rich and well-known, will not be mourned by anyone in possession of a conscience.
As for my acquaintances, those that knew me at a distance, I like to imagine what might be said in confidence. I doubt much would be said at all, because I do not think I made a great impression on anyone really. People tend not to remember the things that I said or did, but to ignore me for the most part, as though I were already a ghost. I expect that after uttering a general platitude, most would dismiss every thought of me from their mind. Thus, I would be forgotten, just as most of the dead are. Only the best and the worst of people are remembered, and I'm neither, but somewhere in the middle ranks. Even the best and the worst, they too will be forgotten if there's truth in the precognition below.
For the human race as a whole, I'm pessimistic, because I believe that man's mastery of technology overwhelms his feeble moral compass, and I also believe that this disparity will result in the annihilation of intelligent life on earth. Surviving will be microorganisms, plants and small creatures. Perhaps there is time remaining in our solar system for another process of evolution on this planet. But it may be billions of years before another intelligent species arises. Traces of humankind will linger in outer space, perhaps, and in certain areas of the earth. Another intelligent species with an appreciation for archeology may unearth our bones one day.
