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Ever since my car wreck, something has been lingering in my brain, and I'd like your opinion on the subject.
My recent accident was not a near-death experience, although it easily could have been (or worse) if only the limousine had hit my car door instead of the front tire.
As I wrote in my first post about the wreck, all I remember is a black blur coming from the left, and the next thing I remember is being helped out of my car, and through it's shattered window. I was probably blacked-out for less than five seconds, but during those brief seconds—and this is what really pisses me off more than anything—I could have been robbed from experiencing my own death.
You see, the accident happened so fast, my life didn't even flash before my eyes, and that's a morbid luxury I've experienced a few times in my past, and during a few close-calls with the Grim Reaper. This time however, because things happened so quickly, I was denied that right of passage into the impending afterlife. Like many people who have departed this mortal coil, I literally didn't know what had hit me, and I don't think that's fair.
Until now, I've never given much thought about dying without knowing or feeling it.
Here's something to think about: The passengers on the airplanes that hit the World Trade Center on 9/11 knew they were going to die, but they probably didn't feel a thing. At the moment of impact—before any explosions or defragmenting of the aircraft—the plane decelerated from 500 mph, to perhaps 400 mph, and in a split-second. I like to think this alone caused the passengers to black-out, and not feel or remember anything else. But, although they were doomed, the passengers at least had time to say their Hail Mary's, and call their families on their cell phones.
My question is this: Would you want to know you're about to die, or would you rather it happen without knowing it? Leave your comments below. If you arrived on this post from Facebook, again, please leave your comments below and not on my profile wall.
Personally, I want to know when I'm about to die—be it withering away in a hospital, crashing in a plane, or sitting in the electric chair—I want to see death coming. I don't like surprises, and I don't want death to sneak-up on me like it almost did two weeks ago. During my last moments on Earth, I want the benefit to think about whatever I see fit.
I also don't want to die with any deep regrets or grudges. Since my accident, my sister and I have made amends, and I even sent an email to my ex-girlfriend, Conrad, and apologized for the times after our break-up that I was an asshole to her.
I've found I sleep better with a clear conscience, and I like to think when it comes time for the big sleep—the inescapable dirt nap—I'll leave this world, and remember doing it, with a content, and perhaps even wry, smile on my face.
No one should have to die without being granted this privilege.
FiN.
