Marla, or How I came to fear death

I used to fear death when I was a boy; then I realized that there was nothing about death to be afraid of.

 

But upon further reflection, over a decade later, it struck me that I still feared certain kinds of death.

 

Let me explain.

 

—————-

One day I met a girl named Marla.

 

She was pretty; she was quiet,

And while we sat on a bench outside an adobe house in the countryside

She revealed her thoughts to me – her deepest trepidation:

“Lucas,” she said, “I am scared of dying.”

 

I was taken aback… “Why?”

 

“Why,” I asked,

“Are you afraid to die?”

While I sat next to her, looking at the caramel in her irises,

Her gaze pointed at the ground by her feet,

My eyes looking at the ground by her feet and then at her eyes,

She thought long and hard

And gave me a deep answer:

“I don´t know.”

 

But she knew a little, and so explained everything:

“When you die, you cease

To exist.”

“Deja de existir,” is what I remember her saying in her native tongue.

“And I do not want that!

To cease to exist.

I want to do things.

I want to see and sense things.

I want to live.”

 

At that point this is what I was thinking:

What she said reminded me of another woman that I met a few weeks earlier.

(I forget her name)

She wants to be thirty-three

Forever.  She would have to rewind the omnipresent clock of Nature by twelve years to do that…

“I do not want to get old

And wrinkly – look at my face now! –

And I want to be able to do so many things!

– Things that will get more and more difficult as I age.”

I told her my desire to study how the brain works

And she said, full of excitement, “You must help me!

Research this –

Turn back the hands of my inner clock.

I know you can do that!”

You are crazy, I thought to myself. (While wondering: why do you bring up Malthus´ ideas to explain your fantasy, anyway?)

But I thanked her regardless for paying the cab fare home.

That story is entirely true.

 

But back to

Marla,

Who, on the other hand, was not a lunatic, since

She reminded me of me:

“I once feared death as well,” I said.

“As a child I would weep,

Sitting on the edge of my parents´ bed,

Imagining,

Hoping,

That they were on the bed with me,

Sitting there and not dead as I was worrying,

In situations as commonplace as them going to town to buy groceries.

They said they would be back at seven,

I would tell myself,

But it is already eight thirty! Why?

What happened?

Marla looked up,

Up from the ground, at the clouds and the sky,

(It was turning a dark pastel blue)

Looked at me and smiled, barely.

“Really?” she asked.

The way she stared into my

Eyes – haunting and sincere.

“Really,” I replied.

“But,” and this was a big but that I was laying down, “I do not fear death

Anymore.”

(It was true: I felt so proud of myself)

“I´m not scared of dying,” I repeated,

Unaware of the fundamental flaw in my reasoning

– That I would only detect over a decade after the first day that I started to not fear death.

 

It is a flaw in the way everybody thinks –

About certain things, at least.

You don’t question the underlying assumptions

Until you are forced to explain them.

Then it is reframed anew,

In light of the way you currently see things.

 

And so it would later strike me so unsuspected and complicate what used to be so simple.

 

I repeated to Marla: “I´m just not.  If I die, so what?”  Then the logic that will turn out to be flawed:

“If I die I won’t exist to worry about it,

All that matters is living La Vida Dulce!”

 

And although she didn’t respond the way I hoped,

That conversation touched me dearly.

 

Returning to the logic that would turn out to be flawed:

It is a lie for me to say:

“I do not fear death,”

I realized only today. (Better late than never!)

I am bracing myself for all the repercussions from this fundamental correction to one of my

Fundamental beliefs.

 

Repeat after myself:

I do fear death!

But a different kind of death.

Not death of me,

That’s nothing, and in that case I stand by my beliefs aforementioned.

But death to others,

– Death just as much –

Then one of the original pillars

Falters,

Miserably.

Namely: I will be around, in this world,

To experience all worries that accompany death.

 

The scariest thing about my disappointing revelation is that

Now

I have no

Excuse against,

– Maybe no reason not to hope for? –

Sitting on my parents´ bed, an hour and a half after they were supposed to return, and worrying myself –

To death.

 

But back then,

As we sat next to that adobe farmhouse,

And leaned and breathed,

I was confident:

“I won´t exist to worry about it,

All that matters is living La Vida Dulce!”

I really hoped to have sparked deep transformative thoughts in her,

I wanted her to understand – for her to feel better.

 

But she did not utter a single word about death again.

(Ever)

 

After I had waited

And waited,

For a response,

 

But in return got only

Silence,

And a weak smile,

And Portishead as background music only in our ears,

 

I got up to continue our trek across the farmlands under the pastel sky,

And she got up as well,

The bench creaked twice in relief,

And she followed.