By Keith C. Milne
Emily’s Transition:
I cannot believe I’m here again. I don’t belong here. I don’t feel old enough to be at my time for the transition. Transition! Ha! What a nice, cleansed way of saying OLD, done, over with, past prime, no good, now a burden!
They don’t know how this feels. But I know that someday they, too, will be in my position. Facing down the grim reaper, albeit in a higher tech way.
It’s all been so fast, my life. A blur of one event after another since the day I opened my mouth to scream out and cry and declare my life to the world and to the universe.
How can a simple second, 1/60th of a minute, add up to so many stacked end to end that they have all added up to “my life,” and now, before I’m not able to do anything except sit in a chair and stare out into space endlessly, seemingly in a trance or a dream state, I’m here to learn how to be okay with my demise?
Just like I remember reading several times during my productive years about Buddhism, that much of the teachings boil down to learning to be okay with what is.
Hmmm. It’s got to be different when you’re on the young end, or the other end of the stick of misfortune that is being used to poke and prod you into doing anything you do not want to do, like end your life because some authority that my culture has decided to abide by says it’s time for me to go.
No matter what anyone says to me, including Dr. Harper today, I know that I’m fine. I know that I’m still capable of being productive in some way. After all, if that statement wasn’t true, how would I even begin to use this machine to type this reflection, this complaint about my inevitable demise in the first place?
Well, if it must be, then it must be. Reflection?
My life has been good for the most part. I have my own particular talents, but have never been anything particularly special outside of my own philosophy regarding just how special and amazing all human beings, no, all of life is.
I’m grateful for the time I’ve had, the things I’ve learned, and the my own personal knowledge that I’ve always done the best that I can under all circumstances and that I have done pretty well at virtually all that I’ve attempted to do in life.
I’m also grateful to have lived in a time period where at least my own thoughts and memories, experiences, and feelings about all of it can and will be preserved forever, digitally. A permanent record of me and my life without ever having been a burden to anyone.
I know this is the right thing to do. It’s time. I won’t wait until I’m feeble, that would be worse. Besides, what choice do I have really? None! We’re born, we learn, we work, we wither, we die. It’s the natural order. It shouldn’t matter how I feel about any of it. We must all do our part to ensure that the future remains bright for those still to come.
It’s interesting how in the end, we all get notified. Rich, poor, smart, average, feeble, good, and evil. We are all the same in the end. We are not exempt. No one is. It is our way.
Here I am Dr. Harper. I’m ready . . . I think.