Numbers To Dial When My Number Is Up

You'll know how important you are to me based on whether you find your name on the list.

The list of "People To Contact In The Event Of Severe Injury Or Death."

There exist four copies of this list: My mother has one, another can be found in my apartment, filed with other important documents, the third I keep in my wallet, and the fourth is still waiting for a home.

I've kept some form of "the list" for the past four years. Some think it's morbid that I've compiled such a thing; I prefer to think of it as smart. You know, Boy Scout-caliber preparedness.

I don't recall what specific event prompted me to make the list, but I distinctly remember feeling a bit irresponsible - foolish, even - for not having gathered the information sooner.

I was living with a roommate at the time and it occurred to me that if I got into a serious car accident, for example, he'd have no way to get a hold of my family. This scared me for two reasons: One, were I in a situation in which I was clinging to life, I'd prefer a loved one by my side. Two, I wouldn't want to die and have my mother find out two weeks later, after she'd been beside herself with worry at not getting a hold of me (she can rarely go more than a few days without calling me). Then, I thought of my friends that may live out of state, those that have no ties to other of my friends or my family. Were I to die, they'd be none the wiser.

So, that's the reasoning behind it. Like I said, it seemed a natural document to keep. It wasn't until I started getting bizarre reactions from others that I began to question my mental health.

Some were scared: They thought I was PLANNING to go somewhere. This, of course, led to continual reassurance on my part that I wasn't going to be committing suicide. A few people, my mother included, saw my behavior as a bit off. They thought me paranoid. Others...they just laughed. Those are the ones that know me well enough to understand that sometimes, it's impossible to understand me.

Once I realized what a stir my list could cause, I became motivated to use it as a conversation piece - a springboard to discussions about mortality.

Because, the thing is, we are too frightened of Death.

Why is talk of death so consistently avoided? Why is one assumed to be depressed or suicidal if they openly express thoughts on dying?

Death is so taboo.

Yet, it's a normal part of life. We'll all face it. Why not embrace the fact and go in, eyes open? (Figuratively speaking.)

This little list, born of a desire for some connectedness, and - I'll admit - a bit of an obsessiveness regarding detail, has led to a completed restructuring of my views on life and death. It has made me question the "truths" given me by society - a society that teaches me to live in fear.

I don't want to die. Not now, anyway. And not in the next 50 or so years, if I'm honest. I can't pretend that I feel no fear of death; I'm not so highly evolved. Rather, my fear has diminished and therein made room for a bit of well-deserved respect.

We'll soon be old friends, Mr. Black and I.