Every day I remind myself that I am going to die, that I cannot escape death. I’m preparing to have “I am subject to death” tattooed on my left arm to finish the outer string of banners. Recently I was at work and driving a group of kids home, one of them went unresponsive after reporting difficulty breathing, stopped moving, went mostly limp.

Pulling over it was clear to me that they might die. When I was pushing 80 on a 40mph road to get to the nearest hospital I reflected that, if they were to die, I hoped for a fortunate rebirth. I was afraid. Thankfully they’re alright and are currently fine in the hospital. This daily reflection on death I do has me often cognitively aware of death yet it is much harder to have a more genuine understanding of the implication and immediacy of death.

I will reflect sometimes on what would happen if my parents died, how I would feel. In reality, very few people have died in my life, my great grandmother, grandfather and one person I was an acquaintance with in college. I knew none of these people particularly well and so with their death I wasn’t intensely affected. I imagine feeling sad if my parents died. Maybe confused and lost. That fear is less present now than it was, especially as I gain independence.

In a certain way, having more acceptance of my own death now makes me feel more at ease with some things and more urgent in others.