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Πάντως προσωπικά πιστεύω πως όσο κι αν ακούγεται παράλογο και σκληρό, πρέπει να υπάρχει θάνατος για να έχει η ζωή αξία. Παρότι συχνά νοιώθει κανείς ότι το σύμπαν αδικεί, φανταστείτε πως σε σχέση με παλιά είμαστε, στη χώρα μας συγκεκριμένα, πολύ καλύτερα (τότε μωρά παιδιά πέθαιναν κατά δεκάδες από επιδημίες και πολλοί πέθαιναν άσχημα σε πολέμους ή εκκαθαρίσεις). Παγκοσμίως βέβαια υπάρχουν διάφορες καταστάσεις που συχνά μειώνουν το μέσο όρο ζωής, αλλά γενικά νομίζω πως τα πηγαίνουμε καλύτερα από το παρελθόν.I remember one day you were handling the well-known commonplace,-that we do not suddenly fall on death, but advance towards it by slight degrees; we die every day. For ever day a little of our life is taken from us; even when we are growing, our life is on the wane. We lose our childhood, then our boyhood, and then our youth. Counting even yesterday, all past time is lost time; the very day which we are now spending is shared between ourselves and death. It is not the last drop that empties the water-clock, but all that which previously has flowed out; similarly, the final hour when we cease to exist does not of itself bring death; it merely of itself completes the death-process. We reach death at that moment, but we have been a long time on the way. In describing this situation, you said in your customary style (for you are always impressive, but near more pungent than when you are putting the truth in appropriate 4 words): "Not single is the death which comes; the death. Which takes us off is but the last of all." I prefer that you should read your own words rather than my letter; for then it will be clear to you that this death, of which we are afraid, is the last but not the only death
I see what you are looking for; you are asking what I have packed into my letter, what inspiriting saying from some master-mind, what useful precept. So I shall send you something dealing with this very subject which has been under discussion. Epicurus upbraids those who crave, as much as those who shrink from, death : "It is absurd," he says, "to run towards death because you are tired of life, when it is your manner of life that has made you run towards death." And in another passage : "What is so absurd as to seek death, when it is through fear of death that you have robbed your life of peace?" And you may add a third statement, of the same stamp: "Men are so thoughtless, nay, so mad, that some, through fear of death, force themselves to die."
Whichever of these ideas you ponder, you will strengthen your mind for the endurance alike of death and of life. For we need to be warned and strengthened in both directions,-not to love or to hate life overmuch; even when reason advises us to make an end of it, the impulse is not to be adopted without reflection or at headlong speed. The brave and wise man should not beat a hasty retreat from life; he should make a becoming exit. And above all, he should avoid the weakness which has taken possession of so many,-the lust of death. For just as there is an unreflecting tendency of the mind towards other things, so, my dear Lucilius, there is an unreflecting tendency towards death; this often seizes upon the noblest and most spirited men, as well as upon the craven and the abject. The former despise life; the latter find it irksome.
Others also are moved by a satiety of doing and seeing the same things, and not so much by a hatred of life as because they are cloyed with it. We slip into this condition, while philosophy itself pushes us on, and we say : "How long must I endure the same things? Shall I continue to wake and sleep, be hungry and be cloyed, shiver and perspire. There is an end to nothing; all things are connected in a sort of circle; they flee and they are pursued. Night is close at the heels of day, day at the heels of night; summer ends in autumn, winter rushes after autumn, and winder softens into spring; all nature in this way passes, only to return. I do nothing new; I see nothing new; sooner or later one sickens of this, also." There are many who thing that living is not painful, but superfluous. Farewell.
Seneca, Epistles
Από δικούς μου ανθρώπους έχουμε χάσει τον παππού μου, ο οποίος δυστυχώς πέθανε από άσχημη ασθένεια, αν και ευτυχώς όχι στο τελικό της στάδιο, αλλά πιο σύντομα και ανώδυνα (πλαγία μυατροφική σκλήρυνση, προκαλεί τελικά παράλυση των πνευμόνων και πεθαίνεις από ασφυξία/σταυρικό θάνατο, αν και ο παππούς μου πέθανε πιο νωρίς από καρδιακή προσβολή).
Επίσης τελευταία έχει η μητέρα μου σοβαρή ασθένεια (καρκίνο) και δεν ξέρουμε πως θα μπορούσε να εξελιχθεί (δυνητικά θανάσιμα, αλλά για την ώρα είναι υπό έλεγχο).
..οι ανθρώποι που χάθηκαν είναι ακόμα στο πλάι του καθενός,η Αγάπη προς αυτούς δεν πρέπει να χαθεί..
