Thinking and Writing of My Own Death

That’s what Steve Jobs said during his famous commencement speech at Stanford in 2005.

I’m in my “late” 20s and usually do not think of death. And I feel like it’s safe for me to say many people, especially in my age group, are the same way.

Maybe I will think about it more when a friend or family member dear to me passes away and I attend the funeral, look at the face of the corpse, or even gently poke his or her hand at the viewing. But then, I still think I will be playing a video game that night at home and hacking and slashing everything in there (Yeah, Witcher 3 is just out).

Actually, I am exposed to the idea of death a lot. Not just the fake ones in video games and Netflix, but it’s all over the news media. Recently Nepal went through terrible earthquakes. I donated some money, and offered a couple of short prayers. But what really grabs my attention are the death toll numbers that the media competitively broadcasts. When the number goes up, I frown a bit and mumble inside, “that’s horrible,” but at the same time I also can’t help getting curious whether the news media will use words like “the worst disaster since…” as if it’s just another quick dose of stimulus a day.

Ok, so what I am really trying to say (writing always helps me to find that out, and that’s what I love about it) is that I don’t think about my own death hardly at all. Probably not until I get really old or have an incurable disease.

I am not writing this because I have a great insight about death like Steve Jobs did. I just realized I don’t think about my own death, or perhaps unconsciously avoid it, because it is something very uncertain. I have no idea when and how it will happen to me, unless I decide to take my own life — which I thought about quite often in my teenage years, but I didn’t ever have the guts to do.

Recently I watched a YouTube video called “100 Years of Beauty: Aging,” which got me thinking of this subject more than I would normally do.

If you don’t want to watch the video (I skipped through it when I first watched this because you know, the short-attention span generation), it’s basically about a young engaged couple in their 20s wearing aging make-up to see what they’ll look like to each other throughout the course of the journey they are about to embark on. When they “hit” their 70s, the mood in the set gets quite emotional.

And a thought flew across my mind like a shooting star whose tail I managed to catch. I guess thinking about our own death makes it easier for us to focus on the things that matter. Things that are important. What are they? Well it depends on each individual, but what I can say for myself is that if I only had a week to live, I don’t think I would spend the whole time indulging in a feast of pleasure and flesh, bondless of any moral norms. Maybe I’m just not that wild or fun.

First I’d find a remote place in nature and look back on my own life. I’d spend quality time with my spouse, family or friends, resolve any mistakes or conflicts out there. And then I’d look for and do things that would somehow contribute something good to the lives of people who have more days to live. If the list sounds too cliché and gets boring, I can shorten it into one word: peace.

I think I should think about my own death whenever I feel like my life is too busy or too mundane.

And frankly, writing about this makes me think more about it. And that’s why I try to write things about topics that I don’t usually want to think deeply about or deal with.