When I think of dying I become afraid.
Not of death itself,
but of the act of dying.
I don’t want it to hurt.
I don’t want it to last long.
I want to slip from this life into the next.
And when I think of dying in that way,
as in being born again,
I’m not afraid.
I think of how I’ll feel when I’m with my grandpa again.
And if I think that the ocean is beautiful now,
think of how spectacular it will be in paradise.
When people I love die, I hurt.
I don’t understand it.
But I’m not meant to understand everything.
I’m meant to do my best.
I’m meant to trust in God.
What we have here is only temporary.
But one day when I close my eyes,
I will open them to a permanent love.
A love that fully embraces me.
And when I think of dying in this way
I think death is very beautiful.