Some Christians opt for one or two days of viewing the body, known as a wake. I know that when someone dies, it could take as long as a week for the body to be buried. Growing up Catholic, I thought it would be good to first check in with the faith that raised me. So, to help put my own mind at ease and to calm the nerves of anyone else out there wondering, I spoke with people from different religious backgrounds to get their take on death and the afterlife. It's hard not to think: What happened to my father? What will happen to me? And yet again, I start to notice a pattern in the way my fear works: It's all about the unknown. He doesn't visit me in dreams or move objects around the house letting me know he is watching. Thinking back on their strength, especially my mother's, during that time is awe-inspiring.Īlthough my mother says he wasn't afraid to die (he was just "sad because he was going to miss us"), I have no idea what happened to him the moment after he took his last breath. He had gotten cancer two years prior, but me being so young (I was about 11 at the time), and my parents being so brave, there was little discussion about it besides words of comfort from my mom or dad after something traumatic happened - like when ambulances arrived at our house in the middle of the night to take him to the hospital. Leading up to that time, I didn't know the extent of my father's illness. Granted he was older, 51 when he died in 2002, but he was happily married, had three (lovely, if I do say so myself) daughters and - poof! - he ceased to exist. And that's the problem: I could've said the same thing about my dad when he died. I've been blessed with friends, family and a career that I love - one could argue that I'm in the prime of my life. My heart pounds and I can actually feel the blood pumping through my veins. Will I go to Heaven? Will I be reincarnated? Will my spirit die with my body? I start feeling sick when I think about that last one. What scares me isn't so much how I'm going to die - it's more the fear of what will happen afterward. One day, I will simply - poof! - cease to exist.
Then, out of nowhere, I had this moment when I realized that one day the laughing and smiling and breathing could stop (the last part definitely will).
Like the other day, I was driving around with my boyfriend and we were laughing so hard at something silly.
#Buried alive death of your perfect world zip zip#
Never when there's plane turbulence, or, say, when I'm doing something dangerous - like that time I was zip lining in Mexico - sweating, hands trembling, but my mind? Totally clear. At just 28 years old, I think about death quite often.
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