the inevitable end

on the fear of death

it’s in your head — 4 words i repeat to myself while i am seated in the waiting area of my GP. it’s boiling in this little square room and the music is working on my nerves. they must have considered it relaxing music, but it’s really doing the opposite for me. my breath is shallow. it must be the heat, i tell myself. i grab my book and hope to find some distraction in it. a man with a limp walks into the waiting room. a couple minutes later a girl also arrives, she smiles at me and says hello. another few moments go by and a younger guy walks in. one by one they get called in before me. ugh — this seat sucks i can’t find a comfortable way to sit in it. i twist and cross my legs. why is it so fucking hot in here? what about airconditioning? they don’t even have a water tap here. who chose these ugly lime green seat pillows? ‘‘Jasmine?’’ my doctor calls my name from her office upstairs. finally! i get up, with sweaty hands i cling to my bag.

as a child i had a lot of fears. i was terrified of walking up the stairs in the dark evening hours, to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. every night the same ritual would occur. i would feel the anxiety take over my mind and body, thinking i would be confronted with evil spirits and skeletons (not a metaphor, my biggest fear was an actual human skeleton in the corner of my room). i made sure i didn’t look in certain directions, i avoided the mirrors in the house, and the dark bedrooms were the worst of all. after i managed to get under the covers and hold on to my stuffed animals for comfort, my mom would always come upstairs to give me a goodnight kiss. i would tell her i was afraid of having nightmares and she assured me that if i repeated the phrase ‘i don’t want to have a bad dream tonight’ i would only dream nice things. after she left, i would recite it continuously — i don’t want to have a bad dream tonight, i don’t want to have a bad dream tonight, i don’t want to have a bad dream tonight — like i was holding a prayer bead necklace, until i fell asleep.

it wasn’t just the night that haunted me, during the day i would be accompanied by the fear of people dying. i am still not sure why or how the concept of dying was so much on my mind at such a young age. the first death i had to deal with was of someone i used to call grandma. she wasn’t my real grandma, but she was a very sweet older lady who my sister and i considered our third grandma. i remember her laying in her coffin, looking nothing like herself. she reminded me of a wax doll and it shook me. how can someone you’ve seen so full of light become an empty shell that does not resemble even the slightest of who i saw a week prior?

i was obsessed with asking my parents how long before they would become grandma or grandpa. not in the literal sense of course, at that time i thought grandma meant old. i asked them so often, it must have driven them crazy. it all came from the fear of them turning into a wax doll. i wonder why my parents never took notice of the fact that i was so afraid of them dying, and why they never asked about my fearful behavior. they only answered my question with a little laugh of endearment and said: ‘‘that is very very far in the future’’

over time, my fear of losing loved ones expanded to the fear of my own death. at age 14 i started to grow little boobs (i was very late in the growing department) and i was often checking them for weird things. at one point i recall feeling a lump, my greatest horror — i must have breast cancer. i ran downstairs, to ask my mom about it. she felt my breast and laughed. ‘‘no silly, that is just your breast lobe’’

i think about death daily, and apparently i always have. it ranges from thinking about losing my loved ones (and i can picture this so vividly that it makes me cry) to being terminally ill myself and will have to say my goodbyes soon. if someone tells me a young person died, it will be engraved in my memory. i listen to the story of what happened to them and simultaneously i see the whole thing play out in my head. it’s like i can feel the grief of everyone ever close to them. i still think of these people that i have never met, how they are one with the cold ground. i found it so hard to understand this harsh truth of life, why does this inevitable part of it bring so much pain and suffering? but by fearing the undeniable end to things, i deplete myself with something beyond my control.

there’s always two sides of a coin. in its twisted way, death sometimes seems freeing to me. and i know that sounds strange after reading about my intense fears of it — but the reason it’s freeing is because death is the only way out of my endless dread of it. how ironic. and besides that, i am also fascinated by it. i enjoy philosophizing about what happens when the body is lifeless. i wonder if that source of life, that light in someones eyes, moves on to somewhere else. or if the afterlife is nothing but a comforting fictional story we like to hold on to so we don’t have to deal with the fact that we dissolve into nothingness without any continuation of self. it’s nearly impossible to grasp the idea of nothing, i don’t even think we are able to comprehend that concept, hence why we need the idea of an afterlife.

i haven’t come across a lot of people that discuss death or even want to acknowledge its existence. i am aware it’s not exactly a light subject but it’s as much part of our lives as living. we celebrate life in so many ways, but death is its disliked brother, we don’t speak of him unless he shows up and we can no longer ignore him. i see it in how we admire youth — it’s desired, we want to stay young forever. i wonder if anyone realizes why we are so obsessed with youth. a young face, a puppy, a new flower, it all represents life to its fullest, in its early stages. a person with wrinkles, gray hair, a bent back from all the years of gravity pulling it down walks by and it’s rare if we notice. it’s definitely not desired — because it represents the end, it represents death.

i’ve spent my life long fearing death to a point where i didn’t see clearly what it actually entails. but by spending so much time thinking about it, sitting with the self created scenario’s of my own death, i am almost getting comfortable with it lingering by my side at all times. when fear subsides, it’s easier to see things for what they truly are. i came to the conclusion that death is heavily misunderstood. i think it has pure beauty in it, just like life does. if you’ve ever noticed the green leaves turning orange, ready to let go of the tree, you know that life and death are inseparable. it’s so breathtakingly beautiful to see the forest showing its warm colors. the leaves are ready to make space for new buds in spring. when a star dies it explodes and triggers a whole new generation of stars — in short, death makes space for new life, the end is nothing but a necessary part of a beginning.

i hope you enjoyed reading this! i’ve written a short poem about this topic on my other substack milk it. check it out here if you like!

** i know this is not a light topic and i debated if i would post this on milk it instead of here, but i’m of the opinion we should embrace talking about death more and get rid of the taboo. besides, this topic can lead to very interesting conversations with friends/family etc! much love, jasmine