Mortality...

The full implications of our own mortality may coincide with a mid-life crisis: a downbeat epiphany when we realise that, despite our early promise, we might not make much of a stir in this world. We have to confront the likelihood that things won’t turn out the way we’d expected or planned. That great work of fiction may remain unwritten, that expansive gesture left unmade; the mark we had hoped to leave on life may turn out, on closer inspection, to be just an unsightly stain. Our plans for the future may intersect with our regrets about the past, as we ponder the opportunities spurned, the roads not taken and the mistakes we’ve made, which, no matter how hard we try, we can neither undo nor rectify. Worst of all, we may conclude that we shall never represent our country in any competitive sport more strenuous than crown green bowling.     
     Acknowledging the ephemeral nature of life, and the inevitability of death, is bracing rather than consoling, and a counterblast to the infantilising effects of faith. Despite our best efforts to marginalise the subject, death makes incursions into our lives, often at the least opportune moments. If we live long enough, almost every phone call will bring bad news. Our social calendar will one day consist almost entirely of death notices, obituaries and church services, as we attend the funerals of family members – grandparents, parents, hopefully in that order – and too many of our friends and colleagues.