When our health is good, it's easy to act as though we are impervious. Though we may not act as though we cannot die, we often take our good health for granted. Of course as we grow older it becomes common to at least at some point, if not often, experience regret for not having enjoyed ourselves more in our good health when we were able to when we can no longer. In many ways it's certainly terrifying for one's own body to fail them; we often have this sense that we are our bodies and so exercise perfect control over them, but when this control evaporates we succumb to the realization that we are far more vulnerable or weak than we thought ourselves to be. I am still quite young and so by any means I haven't experienced much of this, but with the poor care I often take of myself I have at least experienced enough of this separation of body and mind through age that I can attest at least somewhat to it's nature.

What I can attest much more to is the terror of seeing other's age around you. It's a terrible thing to see yourself grow old certainly, but that pain is nothing compared to seeing those you care for grow old. Most people fear their own death—they find the uncertainty of what happens after it or the process of dying to be terrifying—but to see people you love grow frail and closer to death is too much to bear. Their bodies begin to ache, their eyes seem duller than you remember, they lose the ability to do tasks as well as they used to. Of course you will one day likely suffer the same pains if you haven't already, but you don't feel terror because of what could happen to you, but rather because of what could happen to them. I suffer terribly from anxiety about things and so I tend to overthink them. It doesn't help that my memory from when I was younger is good enough to contrast meaningfully with the current states of those I care for. When their memory begins to slip more than usual I fall into a silent panic over their future. The people I refer to are old enough to be easily susceptible to neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer's. The thought of watching them lose themselves is often worse than the thought of them dying—though that too is terrifying. When I was young, figures such as my father were figures of strength and resilience. Now that I am older and they are older, they are still certainly figures of strength and resilience, but that strength and resilience has waned as their bodies or minds slowly begin to fail them progressively more.

I must apologize for being repetitive throughout all of this—I just mean to emphasize the worry I feel for them. I could cope with much more ease my own body and mind failing because although I fear losing myself more than most all else, when I have reached a critical point of failure—whether it be death, a coma, insanity, or some failure of mind to comprehend myself or comprehend reality—the pain is over; however, for as long as I remain in decent health I will be observing those around me age and suffer for it. There's no option but to be strong for their sake and I am rather weak. I question whether I would have the resolve to be able to do the best I can in their last moments when they come. I suppose I also worry somewhat for what will happen when I die. I don't particularly have any strong fear of death for directly my own sake, but rather indirectly for my own sake; I worry what will become of the people I leave behind. I am not the greatest person by any means—if anything I am on the lower end of the scale by many degrees—but as long as I live I figure I'll be able to muster the strength needed to take care of the people I love should things go awry. If I die however, I worry what will become of them. I am not oblivious to the fact that people too care about me. I also have many siblings. I often ponder what will happen if I die before they had time to grow older. My parents are growing old and so I wonder if in their grief they would be able to take care of them. I worry as well that if me and one of my parents die (or become unable to act) that my family would collapse. I hope all goes well, but I can't let it rest because I'm not yet certain with what my death would entail for those around me and how much of a burden I would be for them.

It's terrible to see others so weak because you can't help them. No matter how strong you can be for them, you can never stop the inevitable. I wish humans could live much longer because as it stands under a century is far too short, but I also think at some point—perhaps as a being lives for so long to experience so much life that they would seek rest. I think most everyone is taken from this mortal coil far too early. I find it tragic that in watching someone else suffer you too suffer in being unable to protect them. You cannot fight their sickness for them nor can you often sacrifice yourself for them. No matter how much you care, the cruelty of the situation will remove them from you. Even more cruel, over time your memories of them will distort. It may be so subtle you never notice it and so minor as to be negligible, but the state of things will never be remembered exactly as they once were. As you too age and carry their memory with you certain moments or details will be cleaved. Eventually you will either think of them for the last time or your memory of them will grow so distorted that it wouldn't be faithful to think of your memory of them and them themselves as the same person.

It's easy to characterize the universe as cruel when faced with such inevitabilities, and I certainly think in more than just these respects it is, but isn't it so neat that one can suffer at all. I find much in life beautiful, enough so that I pursue much of it in my studies. I wish to know it on an intimate level and though I am far from there and I can never truly be there, I would like to glance into the abyss. Perhaps you do not feel the same, but regardless surely the universe is more than just cruel. I think it cruel and beautiful. Rather than finding those to be separate I find them to be two sides of the same coin. I'm not suggesting that in all of this it is worth it to continue or that in the blizzard that you have by chance or by fate (the difference is the same to me) that you should be grateful for the life you have been given and the sacrifices that have been made for you. I'm suggesting that it's interesting and though often more of it is suffering than not (or joy disguised as later suffering), I plan on suffering for at least many whiles longer. I could only hope you feel similarly in this regard.