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afterlife Death and Dying dying feelings God guitars music Religion

Aging…

How much time do I have left? If I could schedule the year, month, day, and time of my death what would it look like?

Thursday, January 27, 2045

My alarm goes off at 6:00 am and I reluctantly reach over and tap the alarm off button on my iPhone 21 Pro Max. It’s a cold wintry morning in south central Kentucky (I should’ve chosen a state further south, but I’ve said that about a thousand times) but it’ll be warm in the shower.

As I dry off I take stock of my nakedness one last time. I’ve chosen to leave this world wearing exactly what I had on when I first entered it. Before “Your Time to Die” came along there was no such thing as scheduling your own demise. Choosing what I’m not wearing was an easy decision.

It’s 8 o’clock and the smell of bacon frying makes me wonder if I’ll ever have breakfast again. There’s a lot of those kinds of wonderings in my head as I break three eggs into the skillet of bacon grease. Those breakfast cooking sounds; will I hear such sounds as that again after 8:00 pm this evening?

There’s only one way to know, I can’t ask anyone, Google still can’t tell us, and God seems to be silent on the matter, at least for now. I’ve been told you must have faith and believe that there is an afterlife. If there is such a thing, I’d like to think that bacon and eggs will be there too.

It’s noon and I relax with an old guitar, it’s the only thing I’m taking with me. If things are like what my Mother read in her Bible we’ll be transformed somehow. Does that mean we won’t have physical bodies? How am I supposed to play my guitar?

It’s 2:00 pm and I send out “Last Calls” on my old but reliable iMac. Those that gather are but a few, it’s not a festive event, but I’d like to think it is in an odd sort of way. I wonder if I’ll know what they’re thinking as I’m falling.

I’m enjoying my final glass of bourbon barrell moonshine and the pipe is empty. Although it’s a chilly 22 degrees outside, my insides are warmed just enough as I prepare myself for my final flight. I’ve stopped wondering. It’s time.

I’m being flown to a height of 1500 feet. Lying naked, ready for whatever awaits me. I’m slowly manuevered into position. At precisely 8:00 pm I’m asleep.

What happened after that I do not know.

Categories
afterlife Death Death and Dying dying feelings God non-fiction The Aging Process writing

Something to say

I find it quite difficult to write or blog with any consistency. So when the WordPress AI prompted me to be reminded once a week I checked “ok.” And today is one week since my last post. I have no idea what I’ll write about until I start writing. Ideas pop into my head periodically throughout the day, maybe they’re reminders that I should stop whatever it is I’m doing and write.

Lately it’s been mortality. I’m guessing that’s just what happens when you arrive at a certain point in time, somewhere around age 65 or so. I suspect it’s all part of this thing called “the aging process.” Most of us can’t know when the process will reach its end, only when it begins – at birth. I guess I understand the process for the most part, it’s actually pretty simple: the process of living. It’s the end of my aging process that is very mysterious. A mystery that cannot be known until my process is over, or starts again.