The Reality of Mortality

 I was reminded of the chilling reality of mortality on a dreary Monday morning in late July. Mortality is a curious phenomenon. It fascinates me that something so imperative is so easily forgotten. In the business of life, we disregard the reality of its fragility until we are face to face with it. Life is powerful, wonderful, and indescribable, but most of all, life is very, very fragile.

 The morning started out as most mornings do: Stephen's alarm going off, him getting up almost immediately, and my refusal to get out of bed until absolutely necessary. I am not a morning person. I despise the sound of alarm clocks and how rudely they rip me from the serenity of sleep. (Naturally I have the 7:00AM shift. I chose that shift so I could spend more time with Stephen. Love does crazy things to us.)

 This morning was harder than usual to convince myself to leave the comfort of the soft, warm sheets. The anticipation of an overdue meeting with my manager had kept me from any sort of rest the night before. My sleep deprived eyes defiantly protested before opening to the reality of morning. I rolled to my knees and prayed for the strength to get through the day.

 I slipped on some jeans and the first clean shirt I could find, brushed my teeth, and while I was pulling my hair into a tight ponytail, I kissed Stephen "goodbye" and hurried out the door. I walked down the stairs from our second floor apartment and sleepily stumbled to my car. I knew in order to stay awake I would need some upbeat music, so I plugged in my iPod and shuffled my morning playlist.

 Driving down State Street, I saw the familiar sight of red and blue lights flashing in the distance ahead of me. I figured it was someone who was running late to work that had been pulled over. As I got closed I saw the police car was in the middle of the road facing south. As I was heading north,  I made sure no one was behind me, and I slowed down to see what had happened. I saw a slightly dented car, broken glass, the remains of a totaled motorcycle and a man laying seemingly lifeless a few yards from the wreckage.

 The accident must have just happened because there was no ambulance yet. There was no blood, but I knew there was no way someone could get away from that scene without being hurt. I saw the motorcyclist's body. He was wearing a helmet and a full riding suit. I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but I knew that his body must have been badly broken and this suit was keeping everything together. The policeman, a few pedestrians, and a woman in hysterics (I assume she was the driver of the car) crouched around the man in a semicircle but no one touched him.

 The meeting I had been worrying about all weekend completely left my mind. I was suddenly very awake as I continued to drive past the wreckage.

 I don't know if the man survived or not, but I knew whatever the outcome, all who witnessed the scene would be faced with the reality of our mortality.

As a society, we choose not to think or speak of death unless the situation demands. Everyone has differing opinions of what death entails. Some people fear death, others think of it as a new beginning, and there are some who chose to not believe in death. I believe we were born with a greater purpose than to have death be the end. I don't know when my last day on earth will be, I believe I will live to see many more adventures before then, but when eventually death does come to greet me, I imagine I will echo the words of J.M. Barrie's character Peter Pan:"To die would be an awfully big adventure."