Fear of Death

As the number of ninety-year-olds in the world rapidly increases, attitude toward impending end of life is changing. Time magazine this week (February 22-29, page 72, expresses it concisely: “Why are old people less scared of dying?” under a sketch of an old person, hands in pockets, defiantly leaning forward to blow bubble gum in the face of the Grim Reaper, Death.

       My wife and I, ages 84 and 86, are among those who are not afraid. We've weathered breast cancer, and open heart surgery, chronic arthritis, deafness, failing eyesight, failing memory, gastric acid reflux, poor balance and half a dozen types of pills each day, and we are still enjoying life as it is now. At this age, almost everything comes to us with a lifetime guarantee. We have four adult children each gainfully employed, and interesting grandchildren (who are also all adults.) We are celebrating 63 years of marriage, still in love in every way. When our time comes to go, we hope to leave legacies that, even if checkered with both achievement and misfortune, will show a balance of good choices over unwise ones.

       We believe our future does not depend on “luck” or on blind chance, but on our attitude toward life. We believe in a loving God, who created the Universe and who cares for the human race both as individuals and as a whole. We do not presume to describe God, nor do we try to dictate the path by which we travel. 
      Is Jesus the only way to God? He is the only way that I trust. But I do not judge those who attempt another path. God is their judge, not I. I do realize, though, that there are some times when my path may include the responsibility to inform someone, or to listen to someone's problem and offer help.

       I sense God's presence as an awareness in my own life -- an unusual thought or idea that does not seem to arise from my own mental processes; imagination of what could be, or an impulse to help someone in need, or an impulse to change my life's direction.

       I believe there is a life after physical death, available to all who want to accept God's free offer. It depends only on our choice to place our life in God's hands, asking God's help in putting away the anger, the resentments, the habits and desires that have separated us from God's presence. We cannot save ourselves. But we can trust God to do whatever it takes. That trust is the reason I am not afraid of death.

       I look on death as a transfer point, where we change trains (or planes, or whatever analogy you prefer.)
      Your thoughts?