rewarded

I never used to think about death. I'm fifteen. Subconciously, I didn't think it was possible for me to die. I knew I was going to die someday. I just had trouble believing it.

Well. 2011 has certainly cleared that up for me.

RIP Jake Borson. RIP John Clifford. RIP Mrs. Barnes. RIP Grandma Katz.

I never knew any of these people personally, but I got a front row seat to see how deeply their deaths impacted their loved ones. I heard the silences, listened to the sobs, saw the tears, felt the ache in the embraces.

I don't know what death really is, and I don't pretend to. I have never lost anybody especially close to me, unless you count my grandmother (but I was four). I know that it's often messy, just like life. I know that it creates a slushie of mixed emotions. I know that it leaves a gaping hole in our lives but creates closure at the same time.

I'm not the most religious person, but I believe that there is something waiting for us after death. I know that some people believe that's just an idea we choose to believe in to ease the idea of death, but I opt for a slightly more optimistic view--after living a full life, we deserve to be rewarded.