Of course, I think about dying.
Can't help it.
Every day the obit column reads
like my private phone book.
And, no, I am not frightened
by this certainty of my future.
I have been aware of my own mortality
since I was a mere lad of 12.
That was the year I gave up a believing
in Heaven and Hell.
That is also when I started to invest
my Sunday school collection money
in enjoying the only life I would have.
Fear is not the question.
The question is if am I ready to go.
Not yet!
There is jazz I have not yet heard
by musicians I have yet to discover.
There are books I have not yet to read
let alone those not yet written
by writers not yet known.
There are new people to meet
in check out lines,
sharing an awning in the rain,
or sitting in the Vets waiting room.
There are grandchildren to watch grow
and photos to share with friends.
And somewhere there is a restaurant opening
that will serve me a new dish of great delight.
Just last week I discovered two new wineries
whose wines I have yet to taste.
Each day my cats find a new way
to play that amuses me all anew.
I wonder whom the Kings will draft
and if he will be able to rebound.
Will the Giants and 49ers
at least be half as good next year
as the city they represent?
I can hardly wait to see how Obama
does with the Pliocene folks.
But even if I could not hear, taste or see
I would not be ready to go so long
as each day my curiosity would be
giving me the satisfaction of knowing
what is happening.
Until pain erases my curiosity,
I'll stick around.
For death means little more
to me
than the end of learning .
Doug Minnis
2009