Miguel Chen - The Death of You: A Book for Anyone Who Might Not Live Forever

Dimly for thirty years;

Faintly for thirty years

Dimly and faintly for sixty years:

At my death I pass my feces and offer them to Brahma.

IKKYU (13941481),
written as his own death approached

YOU WAKE UP and get ready for your day: bathroom, shower, breakfast, brush teeth, walk the dogs, and go. Youre off to work.

You spend your day at a job which, lets say, you dont hate. Maybe you even like it, a little or a lot.

You get off work and go home to your family, or your partner, or your dogs, or your plants. You have dinner, spend some time unwinding, go to bed.

You wake up. Repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.

Because youre dead.

You dont get up to use the bathroom, or shower, or have breakfast, or walk the dog.

You dont go to work, and it doesnt matter if you liked your job not anymore. You dont go home to your family, or your partner, or your dogs, or your plants. You dont have dinner, or unwind, or go to bed. None of those human concerns are yours anymore.

It doesnt really matter how you died. Maybe you had a heart attack in your sleep. Maybe a deranged lunatic suffocated you with your own pillow. Maybe you unleashed Death-Fart 5000 in a dream and it actually killed you. The deed is done. Your life is over and nothing will change that.

Well, your family and friends are, probably, supremely sad. Youd like to tell them its okay, but you know, youre dead. Plus: Is it okay?

The dogs will to have to find someone else to walk them, because you wont be walking anytime soon. Or, ever.

Work might be wondering why you didnt show up. So what if they are? What are they gonna do? Fire you? Theres no more work, no more play. Unless you think the act of physically decaying is play.

Your body will start to deteriorate, your flesh rotting away from the bone. Youll surely let out a few last ghastly farts as the wind clears from your system. Finally, after your hair and nails go, therell be just a horizontal scaffolding of bones. Besides that, in a sense, all that remain are the memories held by those who you affected.

Some of those memories might be really pleasant. Some might be downright awful. Doesnt make much of a difference now, because ( have I mentioned? ) youre dead. How people want to remember you is up to them, and theres nothing you can do to change it now. They get to wake up and live with, or deny, your memory and your impact. You pretty much just get to be dead.

There was still so much you wanted to do! So many places you never got to see! Your children (or your dogs or your plants) will have to grow up without you. Your partner, your loved ones will have to work through their pain and find a way forward. All your plans... poof .

Its a shame, too: you tried your best in life. You honestly did. You wanted to be a good friend, maybe a good parent, tried at least a little to be an inspiration to others. You worked hard every day to make the most of your time and leave your mark on this earth. Maybe you succeeded, but how could you know that now? To someone whos not alive, could it even matter?

When youre talking about death, What now? can also mean, Where next? Does the end of your life mark the beginning of something else? Maybe an eternity of bliss? Will you be reunited with all your deceased loved ones? Is there some white light waiting to take you to heaven, where youll spend eternity floating on a cloud and eating from an endless taco buffet?

Or maybe youre off to hell. Have you considered the possibility that youve pretty much been an asshole and youre going to burn for it? Its worth considering! You might be headed to an eternity of excruciating pain and suffering, payback for all your sins. Bummer.