Nothing terribly deep or novel here, just a few meanderings on me and my relationship with that terminal dirt nap.

All of my life thoughts of death and mortality occasionally surfaced into my forebrain. Of course, there are the usual childhood incidents, such as when your puppy dies, that can provoke contemplation, but there have also been other instigating factors. I am not talking about the passing of my father when I was a child; though that naturally impacted my thoughts and mental balance considerably.

Even before that, I can remember thinking about death and thinking specifically about my own demise. Strange and unusual thoughts for a child.

One example can be recounted in a simple prayer I was taught.

Now I lay be down to sleep

I pray the lord my soul to keep.

Should I die before I wake

I pray the lord my soul to take.

My parents raised me as a Southern Baptist. (Time has shown that it did not take and I am a religious non-believer now who thinks that all religions look equally silly from the outside.) Reciting that simple rhyme at night sometimes sparked my imagination.

Could I die before I wake? Did that sort of thing really happen? Where people just go to bed and for no reason never wake up? I can remember clearly have nights where I feared going to sleep because it was possible I would never wake up.

It had to be possible, it was right there in what I was saying.

Did the prayer start the thoughts or did I have an innate fascination with the end of life?

I can’t say. The details are lost to me in the far reaches of hazy and untrustworthy memory.  Nature or Nurture I will never know but still, to the day, I don’t react the same way as most people when I hear of a death.