Notes on dying

The hardest part of thinking about my own death is this notion that I will stop thinking. One moment I will be and the next, I won't. The thought train stopped forever. Even the idea to become some sort of a cognitive process hanging out there in eternal isolation is less terrifying.

The next thing is probably what I heard from Charles Bukowski about him dying over night and his wife waking up to him, and somehow it resonated with me way more than I would imagine. The thought that I would leave close people behind, or even a dog, it's saddening.

The third thing that saddens me in my inevitable death is all those books I won't read, all those movies and series I won't read, and all those games I won't play. I thought I made my piece with it years ago, but I assumed somehow that there will still be a lot of those. No, there won't. Movies, sure, but a couple of games a year and same with books. I guess I need to choose carefully now.

Speaking of dying. Dogs have a shorter lifespan, and that's going to be heartbreaking for their owners, but there is another side to that: it means that most of the dogs will have the same humans around from the moment they develop consciousness till their death. And I find it heartwarming that we can provide them life in which we're always there for them.