Death

I guess you can call me weird, strange, perhaps morbid, but talking about death growing up was something pretty common.  I suppose maybe it has to do with having a sibling, parent, grandparents, aunts and uncles' die in my life time.  My father was a pastor and was called on to speak at funerals, so maybe that had something to do with it.  Or maybe believing that this life here on earth is temporary before moving onto Heaven.  Whatever the reason, I talk about it.  Obviously, I am not ready for my death yet, but I am not scared of it either.  Most of the time when I do talk about death, it is in a joking manner. 

A few years ago, my mom was staying at the house with me.  One morning I woke up before her.  As I walked by her room it was really quiet.  Too quiet.  I shook it off as me being paranoid and went about making coffee.  Next, I fed the dogs and let them out because they were barking and carrying on.  I figure that probably woke my mom.  Still silence.  At this point I was slightly concerned, so I went into the room to investigate.  I called her name, nothing.  I said it again, nothing.  I stood over top of her trying to figure out if she was breathing and I still couldn't tell.  Finally, I got really close to her and said her name.  With that she woke up.  I was relieved and we had a good laugh about it.  She shared a story with me about being younger and sharing the bed with my great grand mother.  She  wondered if Grammy was breathing, as well.  Weird, right?

So it should come as no surprise that the girls talk about death in a joking manner as well.  Not to long ago we were playing tickle fight and I decided to pretend I was dead.  Usually, when I do this Charlotte freaks out.  However, I guess she has learned that Daddy likes to joke around about it.  This time Charlotte did not get upset, instead she screams, "Daddy is dead, I'm in charge!"

Sometimes Drea talks about growing up and getting married and having kids of her own.  I assume it is a girl thing, but I know I thought about those things too, just not at eight years old.  Anyway, whenever she mentions getting married and having kids, I always tell her she needs to wait until she is thirty-five.  Her typical response is, "Daddy, you will be dead."  Last time she said this, I told her I would not be dead, let's figure out how old I would be.  We calculated my age to be sixty-seven, when she is thirty-five.  Drea then says, "See you will be dead."  I went on to explain to her, that her grandparents are all around that age, Nunnie, Papaw, and Noni are all in their sixties.  She says, "Yes, almost dead!"

See what I mean, morbid.