Seeing The Faces Of Death

I once saw my grandmother took her last breath. I was young then, and she was an old lady who lived a full life. The experience was a realization- that we all shall meet the same fate. I was not shaken.. maybe a little stirred.

Recently, I once again saw the face of death-- and it was not as kind as the first time. Death was upon a good friend. Someone who was not old, someone who had wished and fought for a longer and fuller life. She was sick and terminal. She knew it, we all knew it and we helped her plan for the inevitable. But it is true- nobody is ever prepared for such. It was painful for her. I saw it on her face. She did not want to give up, but her body was unwilling to cooperate. I knew she wanted to hold on, for those who loved her, but could only do so much. I saw her struggled, how she tried to fight a battle which we all knew was un-winnable. I was by her side on her last night. I saw it all- and it was unbearable.

So I have seen two different faces of death- peaceful and violent. Do I prefer one from the other? No. Death is death. It is like a thief but worse -it takes away the most valuable of all valuables. It takes away life, dreams, security and happiness. Death is cruel - I do not like it at all.