Shadows of death

It's a difficult day when you begin to come to the full reality of your own humanity. The frailty of life suddenly comes crashing in and the mind can no longer live by the invincible mentality conjured up by the four year old with a sheet acting as a cape tied around her neck. Childhood never looks so sweet as in the moment you meet the fragrance of death.
At what point do we make peace with the idea of our own deaths? Has it been assigned to terminal illness or the moments before the accident that will steal your last breath? When is it ok to wrestle with whether or not you're ever going to be ready to die? When is it appropriate to look the fear of death straight in the eye and bid it farewell for the sake of fully accepting life?

I know I wasn't necessarily a normal child, but in my estimation the definition of normal has been lost somewhere in the vast sea of individuals who can all claim insanity on some level.
As a small child at the age of five I encountered this thought process about death. I wasn't looking for it, but trauma had a hand in bringing such dark topics to the forefront of my little mind.
My favorite grandfather, whom we called Dadu, gave in to a lifelong battle with depression and, quite unexpectedly, committed suicide leaving his entire family behind including my five year old self.
Suddenly the cold, hard, fact that death is not always out of your control was presented to my devastated heart. Suddenly this five year old was holding her own life in her hands questioning whether or not she had the right to live it or not. Thus began my battle of struggling with depression and being suicidal.
It wasn't because I hated my life. I had a magical childhood in most respects... I was blessed with wonderful parents who could do nothing but lavish love on their children. I wasn't looking for some sort of escape from anything. I just couldn't grasp why such a wonderful man had died. If he, being untouchable in my little mind, took his own life then why did I deserve to be alive? Incredibly twisted thoughts, I know, but I wasn't expressing them to anyone. So, unbeknownst to me, those thoughts slowly grew into solid pillars of truth within my heart. I lived most of my childhood subconsciously believing that I didn't deserve life; that I was worthless. It wasn't until I was eighteen that all of these lies began to surface. It wasn't until I stood toe to toe with my own death that I finally started to combat this secret struggle. It took time, honesty, and lots of love from the people in my life. I'm alive today because of that.
So all of that to say, that wasn't the way i would have liked to encounter the moment of wrestling with death. I would have preferred to look at it from a distance and contemplate how I was choosing to LIVE my life.
It took a few years before I could look at my own potential death in a healthy way. The moment came when I was incredibly happy and overflowing with love and joy. The question was not whether I wanted to die, or even if I was ready to die, but rather whether or not I could make peace with the idea of dying in a space of time when I didn't want to die. The question was if I died tomorrow; have I lived well? Have I loved well? Have I released well? Have I received well? Have a rejoiced well? Have I mourned well? Have I searched well? Have I accepted myself well? Could I make peace with whatever would happen next? Yes.
It was a good moment. Difficult, of course, but good.
I'll probably have more moments like that in my lifetime. Healthy ones. I can spot the unhealthy ones by now and I know what to do with those.

So for now I choose to live raw. I choose to wear the truth of my heart on my sleeve; whether it's beautiful or not.
I choose to live embracing love; even when it kills me.
I choose to live challenging every dormant corner in my soul to remember movement; even when I'm weary of growing pains.
The best part in it all is that I choose to live.