December 15, 2017

Your last anything

(In which I contemplate that no one knows the hour of their death)

This can't be my last post
This can't be my last car ride
This can't be my last drink
This can't be my last bowl
Surely I will have time someday to find joy in a fulfilling hobby
I wouldn't get behind the wheel if I had an appreciation of the risks, and that I might not get out of that car.  The airbag light in my car has been on for years.  I'm guessing the airbag isn't working.  Perhaps it won't deploy.  Perhaps it will deploy at such a velocity it will kill me.

I'm not sure it's morbid for me to think about how unexpected death can be.  It's not as if I'm thinking about it constantly.  And, of course, many times I am not controlling the thought... they simply pop up like weeds.  Weeds that if you try to kill just go stronger.  Have to let them wither by ignoring them.  Anyway, the cliche is that it should help me appreciate the present.  Occasionally that might be true.

It's difficult to think about my death without overcome with anxiety about what it would mean for my family.  Those are weeds difficult to ignore.  I am unable to obtain any more life insurance without a medical exam.  I've already failed one of those by disclosing I am bipolar.  What would my family be able to maintain?  How much of their lives could continue and for how long?  Would they have to move?  Could Mary find a job flexible enough to accommodate unknown events with Phillip?  If she did work, would she make enough to afford child care and have money left over?

Happy soon to be here solstice.  6 days.  For me, the downward spiral happens about 2-3 weeks later.  Roughly.  Need to figure out how to brace for impact.

Image credit: Pixabay





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