Scary

A week ago, my mother died. It was not a shock, as she'd been sick a long time. After a certain age, even though it's not unexpected, it is still hard to come to terms with that.

Thursday, a friend/coworker, only 10 days away from her retirement, had a brain aneurysm at home. Thanks to a quick-acting spouse and very good emergency care, she's now recuperating in the neuro icu at the medical center where she was sent.

Last night, another coworker didn't make it to work - her husband had been life-flighted to the same neuro unit with a subdural hemorrhage. That one's very close to my age.

So I am thinking about death. No one is ever truly ready for it, and I think, despite whether someone is there or not, that death is personal and not a thing to be shared. I believe that when people say they are glad they could be with the dying as they departed, that they want to believe their presence made it easier to die. I think it's like funerals - it's a ritual for the living who don't want to accept the finality of death, that ultimate detachment from this world and the people in it. 

So when I die, when I'm dead and gone, whatever good I've done in the world is all that's left. That and a few ashes.