Fear of Death

The sun turned red. Summer time had just begun. We went to the beach, my friend and I. It felt warm, nice. It had been a long time since we were together.

We entered an apartment. Before the window stood a large bed, looking out over the sea. Next to it was a chair. There he sat: a young guy, in his twenties. He was cold, wore a hat. The doctors said he would soon die. They had done all they could.

The message made him loose his faith, despite his hope. He was angry. Why him? ‘I may be leaving people behind’, he said, ‘but no one realizes I have to go all by myself.’ ‘Where to?’ we asked. ‘Infinity. Infinite loneliness that is. A big black hole.’ He was paralyzed with fear.

They had brought a wheelchair into his home, but didn’t ask if they could. It made him angry too. He was not going to say goodbye.

We sat on the bed. In silence. My friend took his head in her lap. I sat next to him. We shared some love and comfort, and hoped he would glimpse another part of reality. The energy in the room changed. He felt free for a moment.

We drove back home in another state of consciousness. We were filled with compassion and humility. Behind us people sounded their horn, impatiently. Another car driver aggressively stuck to our bumper to show his discontent. I decided, again, to be grateful for every single day.

This weekend he died.