I have fear.

Fear?

Yes.

It strikes in my sleep. When I’m awake. Sipping my morning coffee. Or having a cordial in the evening. Reading a book by Joyce or Dostoyevsky. This fear of death haunts me every day. And people go about their business. Living life. Providing for loved ones. They never show fear. Their cards are held close to the vest. Mine are on full display.  Always have been, really.

Were you baptized?

I was.

And that fear was not removed. A faith in God. Something bigger than you.

Right. I watch the news. Kids with arms and legs missing. Blown off in war. People starving. Fighting over a grain of rice. And I think maybe in the next life that’s where I’ll be. Living amongst bombs and guns. Soldiers marching on my street. I’ve had it, too good. Too good. Here I sit waiting to die. To move on somewhere.

I see.

Americans are funny. We have a reward type mentality. Comes from capitalism. Streets of gold. Beautiful mansions. God saying, well done. Wanting a giant shopping mall in heaven when we die. All the things our lives didn’t allow. What’s the point? Choosing the most expensive casket to be buried in. Or a pot of gold for our ashes. It’s never enough. Maybe God will not meet our expectations. Perhaps heaven will be a flop. I am scared of this life. I am terrified of the next.

Only fools are not.