Facing the Inevitable: The Power of Talking About Death
What if death was the end? Back in November of 2008, a surreal chain of events led to me plummeting thirty feet off a cliff, headfirst onto a boulder. I should have died. The thing is, even though I was conscious and communicative—albeit in a limited fashion—for the two months I spent in the ICU. I don’t remember any of it, or the accident. My severe traumatic brain injury, combined with some of the amnesic drugs they gave me, made my “screen go black”. I share this because simply ceasing wasn’t bad, or something to be afraid of. Honestly, the only thing that comes to me to describe it is, peaceful.
