do you ever think about death?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about death.

Morbid, I know.

It’s one of those things that’s inevitable, and yet, seemingly so taboo to talk about.

And yet, I wonder what it would be like if we talked more about it during our lifetime.

It’s one of those pesky things that people don’t want to talk to their loved ones about when they’re alive, yet mourn not talking about with them once they’re dead.

Would mom have liked these flowers that I’m laying at her grave? Would dad like the urn we’re keeping his ashes in? Is the medical care and funeral following what would have been this person’s wishes?

But death isn’t just happening monumentally and earth shakingly in our own families and homes.

It happens every day.

War, genocide, poverty, climate change – it’s all killing people everyday.

And I don’t really know what to do with that.

Honestly, I’m struggling to have the conversations that I know will be helpful.

I find myself struggling with a lot of mixed emotions day in and out.

My grandpa likes to say, “What is life without risks?”

But having been in “risky” situations – being coerced and sexually assaulted at 19 – I’ve come to deeply value safety. Comfort. Stability. With it comes a priceless sense of peace.

Yet, I wonder if I’ve grown too comfortable.

So much of the death in the world is preventable.

And so many die in conditions unlike the one with which my grandfather is blessed – surrounded by people who love him and who can and will do anything to bring him comfort in these final days.

But, at the end of it all, here I am, holed up in comfort, not doing a thing about the death of others across the world.

I wonder what my legacy will be one day.

Will I have helped as many as I hope to?

Will I have made a difference in my corner of the world?

Or will I have grown complacent, comfortable in my privilege and unwilling to step out of my comfort zone and take a risk in support of others?