Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking about death and grief (again). For the most part, I think the way one dies is a reflection of how one has lived their life. Both of my parents passed away in a manner consistent with this idea. My dad died ONLY when he was told that we would, and would be able to. take care of each other. My mom passed away quietly, with dignity and without making a fuss for the people who loved her. My (great) Aunt Irene died after “extreme measures were tried,” which is also fitting given how much she lived through. My dad’s mom passed away in her sleep, after being visited by children on a service project–fitting considering that she loved children, and she didn’t want to be a bother (even when her depression made her one).

This view doesn’t take into account random tragic acts, nor does it really explain my grandfather’s passing. Still, my idea needs some work . I’d like to hear what other people think about this idea…