There's a line in Hamilton that spoke to a deep seated part of me that I rarely discuss.

"I imagine death so much it feels just like a memory"

It's less that I would imagine manners of dying. Just the concept of it and its inevitability.

When I was at a young age, I was so convinced that I would never make it to high school graduation.
I can't tell you exactly why, it's not like I really ever did anything especially risky.
But for some reason, I was just convinced my life would end before then.
No fear, no sadness.
Just a fact.
Perhaps even an acceptance.

Perhaps if I try to dig deeper into it, maybe it had something to do with the idea that I just couldn't believe in a future for myself. 
Color me surprised when I reached senior year and had to think about my future beyond, applying for colleges I never thought to care about, for a career I never truly believed I'd have.
I distinctly remember reading a book series and realizing that the final book would not be released until the next year, the summer after my graduation, and sitting there in surprise that I'd made it this far. 

Things have changed now.
I'm curious for the future, while I can't see what it looks like, I expect it to be there and wonder what it will reveal.
But death has never left me.
Despite every milestone I cross.

It walks with me, almost like a stray cat.
It keeps me company on my walk through the woods.
It weaves its way in and out of the trees,
sometimes walking beside me,
sometimes preferring to stay hidden,
sometimes disappearing into the brush.
Some days it leaves a dead bird on my doorstep.
A gift perhaps.

In some ways I started to welcome death.
The final release of responsibility and my sorrows for the world.
To not have to hunger for healing or nourishment or fulfillment. 

But I made a deal with myself a long time ago, never to seek death out for myself.
In some ways... in my mind death has become something I must earn. 

I fear pain as much as any other sane person in the world. Perhaps more.
But death itself...
My fear, is dying when I haven't earned it.
Caught unprepared, my oil lamp empty. 

I fear the words I wouldn't have said to those I've left behind.
I fear the troubles I might leave for them.
I fear leaving behind a void rather than a filled cup for them to cherish and savor beyond my existence. 

I fear the pure fact of my arrogance for these ambitions.

I fear loss to some extent, though I don't always admit it.
I fear the pain that death can cause for the living.
I fear the intimacy of death, the messiness of it, the decay.
The reckoning with an empty shell. 

I fear death for others, because they either despise it out of fear or rush towards it without thought. 

Perhaps the image of death with a scythe is actually the closest to my mental imagery of it.
But the scythe they draw with death is not the weapon. It's the tool.
It demands respect. But acts without malice.

If I should die before I wake...

I hope those around me know without doubt, that I loved them. To whatever extent. That I saw them and I loved them. 

I hope that I've added enough to their lives without being a loss when I'm gone. 

That my absence is familiar and almost comforting. 

That they smile when they think of me. 

That it doesn't hurt if I'm gone. 

That I genuinely gave them something good in some way at some point. 

I hope you know I admired you. 

I hope you know that you're beautiful and I was so happy you existed. 

That your existence gave me so much comfort. I was so content just knowing we lived in the same world together. And I only hoped you were living well. 

That I learned so much from you even if I couldn't show you and you didn't see it. And I wish I could tell you every single thing so you would know. 

I hope you believe it of yourself. And of me. That I truly found you to be something to be grateful for and I was so happy to have met you. 

...I pray the Lord my soul to take.