I have this strange view of death as a loop point. Maybe it comes from wishful thinking or merely not believing in the concept of heaven as explained by those of the dominant faiths around me. My belief is that death ends our story. It stops our ability to create new memories. That is where it gets a bit tricky for me. Does that mean that we exist as the timeline in which we did exist–with everything happening as it was again and again as we experience each moment of that singular life in a holding pattern reflective of the nature of time itself? Or do we experience the merged possibilities of a myriad of lives we could have lived based on choices–sliding doors as one director/writer put it? Perhaps I am wrong about all of it and our conscious, however fleeting, simply evaporates and time moves forward until it no longer moves forward….
These are thoughts of the macabre, but they are also beautiful because I know we will all reach that endpoint someday, and I’d like to believe the end is a point, like in the vhs of old rewinding to the beginning and experiencing it all again. I live an incredible life. There are parts of it that were not wonderful, but even those helped to shape me into who I am.
My journey here is not over–hopefully not by a long shot, and I will keep making new memories and dwelling in the now. But when my mind does turn to wonder, I am comforted by the hope that I will see (and do) this all again.