The fear of death

As for me, the biggest fear I think I have is the fear of death. That thing—not knowing when it's going to happen, scares me a lot. It makes my heart jump out of my chest whenever I think of it, especially upon any slight occurrence that could naturally lead to death or, most commonly, severe sickness.

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This fear doesn't just affect me personally; it also arises in situations when I feel any of my loved ones might be at the verge of death, even though I don’t know whether it is actually going to happen or not. The fear of Unknown

Sometimes, about two years ago, I was at home for the holidays. One night, my mom fell severely sick. She was shivering as if she were being electrocuted by an electric current. It was midnight, around 3:00 a.m., and the only option and solution left was to take her to the hospital. My three siblings and I held her on the bed while my dad went to bring out his motorcycle. We carried her onto the bike, my elder sister stayed beside her, and she used a thick duvet to wrap her while my dad drove off to the hospital.

At that moment, utmost fear gripped my heart. All I could see was death, just death, even though I was praying for it not to happen. The fear of it happening was so strong. That night, after my dad had driven off, leaving just the three of us siblings at home, we couldn’t stay inside or go back to sleep. Of course, that can never be possible, no matter how sleepy someone might be.

After a while of waiting for Dad to come back, he didn’t return. I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. I called several times, but still, no response. I then called my elder sister, and she also didn’t answer. Curiosity and maximum fear stepped up even more. We locked the door and headed to the general hospital, where we were sure she had been taken.

It was nighttime, but we didn’t care. All we wanted was to be assured that Mommy was alive and to have our minds settled. Just as we left the compound and were still on the street, my dad drove in, flashing his motorcycle light at us. When he stopped, he angrily queried us for leaving the house and stepping out onto the road at such an hour. We didn’t mind or take his query to heart. All we wanted was to know if Mom was okay. When he assured us that the shivering had stopped and that she was being attended to by doctors, our minds became calm.

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The overwhelming fear reduced drastically to 1%. It didn’t go away completely—some trace of it was still there, especially with the thought of, "what if she calms down but still dies?"

But in all this, the fear of the unknown—the fear of death—began to flee. Miraculously, she recovered and was discharged after two days in the hospital.

I don’t think I have ever been more scared of anything than the way I fear death. That thing is so powerful and scary. The actual date is unknown, yet it becomes terrifying at the slightest symptom.

Thanks.

I wrote this in response to #decemberinleo, Day 18.

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