I had one of those shocking epiphanies today. I realized, seriously, completely, viscerally, that I am going to die someday.
There was no hair-raising event, no near death experience, nothing dramatic. Just a realization that hit me during a very long drive, when I had some time to think about what it meant. Harlan Ellison is partly to blame.
Obviously I’ve known this intellectually for a long time. And it’s been non-theoretical for a long time (at least since my father died, getting on to a decade and a half ago). I’ve been able to discuss it, and philosophize about it.
But I don’t think I really believed it until today.
The good news is that this realization hasn’t made me clutch at any religion or counter-rational belief systems. (At least so far–it really only hit home about four hours ago, but I think I’m OK. Heh. I’m still comfortable with my extant philosophy and don’t feel the need to justify any post-life schemes.)
The bad news is that suddenly my wife and child are not just “hostages to fortune” in the sense I’ve always thought of it–my happiness depending on nothing terrible happening to them–but also in the closer-to-what-Bacon-meant sense that if I’m not immortal then my death could have serious negative repercussions for them.
I’m not going to get weirdly obsessive about this, but if I suddenly really believe I’m mortal, and I’m an adult, then I’ve got to change a couple of things. It’ll be interesting to see if this realization lasts, or if I rationalize it away after a short time–I am, after all, an expert at that.
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