Due to harsh circumstances both in my own life and in the life of my truest friend, I have been thinking a lot about death…
…what is death?
Is death the loss of animation, the exit of that ineffable spark undefinable? Is it the fleeing of warmth and movement?
Or is it something more, something deeper and more final, more tragic and fatal?
Back up, waaaay back to when I was around 25 years old and torn asunder from myself and tromping all over me with the jackboots of performance and despair…at that time I considered that the days I had on this earth were a prison sentence that I had to serve before I was finally released through death and reunited with God.
I was living to die.
And in a very real and primal sense, I was already dead and just didn’t have the good grace to realize it and lay down somewhere.
But now? Oh Constance, these days I endure “death” in so many ways…but it is in my deepest desire to live at last, so I am dying to live. I have “died” in the workplace. I have died to ever being able to go back and get a do-over.
And I have “died” to people…this is what grieves me most deeply as it is now that I am finally and fully alive and awake!
So I ask you: does the declaration of others make me dead? People who have not talked to me in forever? People who resent me because in their hearts, I Charissa have killed their friend, their relative…
And yet they refuse to really know me, to taste my life and see that the Lord is good, good to me and thru me…
When someone doesn’t care deeply enough to experience my life, why are they so driven to declare me dead?
Honestly, it feels to me like they are the ones who are dead…they are dead to their responsibilities to the living. They are dead in their hearts which should be tender and lively and rejoicing in good…at least it feels like that.
My very best dearest friend is facing death right now, stark and real. Not some romanticised falsely tragic vision of death placed in service of a world view that is dedicated to self, but real, ugly, stinky, terrifying death carrying with it all of the ultimate and final separation that is the true horror called death.
I am sure she would get my heart cry: dying to live rather than living to die.