On Death and Dying

He can’t stand the thought of getting old.

I don’t blame him, getting old sucks, a whole litany of ever-increasing losses, loss of hearing and eyesight and mobility and all the aches and pains and wrinkles, all symptoms of the human machine breaking down from extended use and wear and tear.

He has always been healthy and active, lifting weights and spinning and golf and he ran marathons and he likes taking care of his lawn. He once quit a job he had on the road because he said he just wanted to stay home and take care of his lawn.

He missed caring for his lawn.

Don’t laugh. I get it. It’s meaningful watching the grass grow day after day, and seeing the transformation after the grass is cut in clean lines, tidy lines, and being outside, in nature, the smell of freshly-cut grass, the small sense of accomplishment and the big feeling of satisfaction after having completed the job.

Humans are a part of nature. We have always lived intimately with nature, until very recently, and it is in our DNA, written into our genes, the connection with the land, and in today’s suburban landscapes, often, the lawn is our one, true connection with nature, with our ancestral roots.

Dying is scary.

It’s hard to imagine, one moment, you are here, this consciousness you have inhabited for years and years, your only true friend, the whole gigantic bundle of experience and emotion, here one minute, and gone the next . . . forever . . . into a dark…