The Importance Of Death

Acta est fabula, plaudite! Death is not something human beings have a fundamental understanding over; there is no person who is born with an innate comprehension of what happens when we cease to exist. We live our lives, day-after-day, not knowing what is to come when the only thing we have ever known comes to an end. So we fear death, cowering in its shadow. Ironic isn’t it? After all, death is one of the only certain things in life, yet we despair it. When I was a young boy, even I knew of death’s overwhelming presence in the lives of humans. Yet, I had never experienced death first hand, so I suppose even I feared it just as everyone else did. I believe that humans are fundamentally conditioned to be afraid of dying; likely because we usually fear that which we do not understand. (Statement of Personal Belief) However, when you experience the grasp of death on the life of a loved one, you come to learn about many of the secrets of this intricate experience we have dubbed “existence”. I received great insight about my own morality when my grandmother died. I learned that death may simply be the end of suffering, that no one is exempt from its grip, and the fact that most importantly, its overwhelming

Regardless of the fact she was in Singapore to seek medical attention, she never let that stop her from having fun with me. It was always “Shall we go visit the Botanical gardens?”, or “Shall we make a trip to the zoo?”, or “Let's walk to a restaurant for lunch today?” (Parallelism), or something of the sort. She was a woman vibrant with life; out of the gaggle of people who stayed with us in that tiny one bedroom apartment, you would have had a hard time believing she was the one that was sick. She never let that vile sickness drain her spirit, even though it was slowly deteriorating her