Today I got an email from someone who says she's okay with death, that it's the agony of life that bothers her. So I began to think about this. Am I okay with death? To be honest no. But it's not fear of death that I'm talking about. And the agony of life...I'm better with that.

First the death thing. It's selfishness, I guess. When someone I care about is gone, I miss them. I miss what they represented in my life too. In the last few years a number of my parents' generation in my family have passed. With their passings, even though I may not have seen them for years, I became aware that I miss what they represented when I was a kid - a safe, kindly place to be. I miss the period when, at least in my world, things were more innocent. I miss the hard working integrity of that generation, something that each subsequent generation seems to lack a little more than the last one. But mostly, I miss being able to go see someone if I want to. I think - they are now gone from this dimension, and this period of learning is over for them. It saddens me - for them. Yet, I know that's okay. I know they are okay. I know I am okay. But there's this void, the place that they used to occupy, and I don't like it.

As for the agony of life - there certainly are a lot of them. And in the middle of all the various agonies, life is very difficult, sometimes wrenching. But after each set of agonies I know I have grown. So for me these things are good.

Then there's the intellectualization of it all. As a writer I do that with everything. This is a good thing in that the process can be enlightening, mentally. But sometimes the over intellectuallization of something makes me miss the point. Sitting with something and not thinking about it can be very good too.

What do you all think about this? I'd like to know.