March 3. 2015
1:10 a.m.

Fear Part 4

Yesterday, I left off on death. First, my fear of my own death, then my fear of the death of my loved ones.

I guess those fears are really all about running out of time.

I have been blessed to live long enough to grow up, have children, and see those children grow up and become parents themselves.

I have lived long enough for my oldest grandchild to get her learner's permit and start driving. (Yikes!) Six more months, and she'll have a driver's license, (double yikes), and if I live that long I will certainly get an excited text from her and a scared text from my daughter--her Mom.

I have been blessed that in all these many years, my parents have remained a constant part of my life. If we all live until July, we will be together for a family reunion.

If.

Now there's a scary word: IF

The passage of time. My youngest grandchild will be two months old in two days. She was just born, remember? Nope. Two months have passed. She has grown, learned to see her family, learned to react to them and smile, started to coo.

My oldest grandchild, the one with the learner's permit--she was just born, too. At least, it feels like it to me. But, no. She's learning to drive.

What happened?

Six other grandchildren have been born between the first and the last, and none of them stayed babies for long, and the time went by so fast that I can't even fathom the passage.

So, yeah. I fear running out of time, because I want to spend my days with them, watching them grow up and change and grow and learn. I want to hear all their stories and tell them mine.

I also want more time with my parents, who, if I face facts, probably have less time left than I do.

This is not to say that I have changed my "plan" to check out first, but really, the choice is not mine to make, is it? I could go first--it certainly happens--but the odds are that I will not.

So these days my biggest fear is not having enough time to hear their stories. All of them, every one. They still have plenty to teach me, and my children, and my children's children.

There's never enough time.

That's what I meant when I said that there were worse things than just a simple fear of death. I'm afraid I'll have to go, and then I'll miss things, like first teeth, first steps, first days of school, first cars, graduations, weddings, first babies.

And of course I will miss those things. We all will. Maybe not my grandchild's firsts, but certainly some great-grandchild's firsts. When the baby is twenty I will be seventy-four. It's possible I will still be around by then. But beyond that?

Well, who knows? It scary not knowing when the time to die will be. Yet, people live longer these days than ever before.

But that brings up yet another fear: Poor health.

This still relates to death in a way; as in, how will I die?

Oh, it's too late for this one.

To be continued...again...
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On a happier note, I'm about to retire to my room with yet another Trixie Beldon Mystery.

Tomorrow--um, I mean, later today--I will have to order a couple more volumes. Like I said, they are a fast read, and this is number six. Then I'll finish some of the other stuff I'm reading while I wait for numbers seven and eight to get here.

If you want something quick and entertaining, try this:  http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/03/09/a-death-stephen-king

Stephen King never fails to deliver a good read.

Good night!