Death... But mostly Life

I have been thinking about the meaninglessness of life a lot lately.

Here are, probably, the four leading causes. 1) My dad passed away a little over two months ago. 2) In a little over two months my family and I will be moving to a new city and start our new life. 3) I'm stuck at home all day with little to no stress and lots of time to think. 4) I started reading a book about death.

This is the first time I'm writing about my dad. Starting the process of writing is sending my thoughts to areas I didn't consider before I started writing.

My Dad 

Coping with my dad's death was surprisingly easy. Too easy. So easy and normal I felt bad. I wasn't there with him while he was dying, so that may be partially why it was easier. My brother and mom were the ones taking care of him as he lost all his functions and life over 3-4 weeks. I talked to them everyday, and there was uncertainty with how long his death would take. He lost the ability to walk, move, and sustain an intelligible conversation surprisingly fast. Then he slowly died the next 2-3 weeks. It was sad. Hearing him suffer makes one wonder why euthanasia isn't legal. But none of that was emotionally hard for me. It felt like a normal process to the end of life.

At this stage in life, with my philosophical understanding of the world, there isn't much to fear or think about death. I cannot change it or prevent it. It's a natural part of life. It doesn't have to be sad or devastating, and it wasn't for me.

It was a lot harder 6 years ago when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. It caught us by surprise. Then my dad struggled during the treatment phase and regretted choosing treatment. Seeing him, with what I viewed as, losing his will to live, was harder than him dying. He was addicted to the pain killers so bad that, it seemed to be his only care. I remember him drooling over himself. When it was time for his "medicine," he would get furious if his medicine was one minute late. When the painkillers couldn't be prescribed, he returned to drinking and smoking his days away in front of the TV. I didn't see a person with any desire to live. So part of me probably mentally prepared for his death years ago.

I'm not mad or disappointed in my dad. It was his life to live or not live. I used to be bothered that he couldn't find anything better than TV and drugs to do with his life, but that's a simplistic view. I talked to my mom about my dad's ambitions last time I was home, before he was sick, and she rattled off a bunch of things my dad lived for and did to find meaning in his life. I was judging him by my desires and values. My perspective was incomplete and wrong.

My daughter is two years old, and she still asks for Grampa. I show her pictures so she will remember and know him, but she won't really know him. That makes me sad.

I think about my grandparents and great-grandparents. I know almost nothing about any of my great-grandparents. In addition, I don't have much from my grandparents to pass on to my daughter. This makes me think: who will remember me after my grandchildren die?

I came across a podcast or TED Talk where the speaker described two deaths: a person's last breath and then the last time someone remembers them. That's wild!

Who will be the last person to remember me? And who cares? Why should I?

A New Life

I'm 37. I still have a lot of life. What should I do with the rest of my life? This is my real dilemma.

I'm over my current professions in education. This will be the second time I quit teaching. I'm not cut out to provide what is needed in the classroom. I like teaching as in presenting information. I like learning and preparing media, but I hate the babysitting, disciplining, and most of the system.

For the first time in my adulthood, I look back at my life or choices I made with pinches of regret.

I'm interested in too many topics. I wish I'd studied statistics or economics or physics. It's not too late to go back. But the fields I'm most interested in require 1-2 years of undergraduate work to enter a graduate study. That doesn't sound like a good investment of my time or money.

The graduate degrees I can get into now aren't useful or valuable to me: degrees like English, writing, or education. I like writing and studying. Maybe journalism could be worth my time and effort. I love reading and learning new things. Part of me wants to get a PhD in a topic so I can write a book. Then I might stand a slightly better chance of being remembered longer after I die.

I'd like teaching at the college level, but I'd need another degree for that too.

Another part of me wants a useful skill where you can solve problems, do research, and or affect policy.

Maybe I should just start a website, podcast, and follow my interests. Read, learn, and share however I feel at the time. That sounds fun, but back to who cares?

When I ask my wife, she says do whatever I want... Oh thanks! that was helpful.

Quarantine 

I'm teaching from home and I have a ton of time to think. Teaching usually keeps me so busy throughout the day that by the time I get home, I'm done. I cook, eat, shower, and spend some time with the family and it is time for bed. No time for reading and no energy to waste thinking and dwelling about death or my purpose in life.

But now. I got all this time and energy to ponder, not death, but life. What will I do with my time until death.

Almost everyone alive today will be forgotten in 100-200 years. There might be a few podcasts, 100s of books, 100s of movies, lots of historical events. I'd guess the internet makes it, but who knows what's next. But when most people's grandchildren die, they're forgotten forever. I cannot escape that. (For anyone interested, here is a BBC article if you want some tips on being remembered.)

I recall when I learned the vastness of the universe and comprehended the insignificance of Earth. I'd get insomnia in bed- it was probably due to bad sleeping habits- but I'd lay thinking and thinking about the world and meaning to life. At first those were scary thoughts. Growing up, I always heard there was a god, heaven and hell, and that everything happened for a reason. Dropping a god, heaven, and hell were all easy for me. But letting go of "things happening for a reason" was harder and more daunting.

Now those ideas are conforming. Who really wants to live forever anyway? How long is forever? Who would really enjoy life after 4.5 billion years? Or 13 trillion years? Can you imagine infinity? How about infinity to the infinith power? That's forever. Dying someday sounds great. I'd prefer a choice, but between a normal human length life and forever, I'll stick with normal length.

I'm 100s of books and 1000s hours of studying more knowledgeable than my younger insomniac self. And still, the more I learn, the better my learning and thinking skills improve. I'm continuously growing in knowledge. But who cares? What am I going to do with this learning? Plus who is going to remember or care 200 years from now? Why not become a hedonist?

My answers to these questions are becoming less and less satisfying, similar to Siddhartha's (the main character from my favorite book) who distrusts teachers and teachings, I'm questioning and distrusting my value in learning and knowledge. Going forward, learning will be more a source of entertainment than anything else.

Maybe my father possessed superior knowledge about growing old, living, and dying. I don't enjoy being mentally impaired or intoxicated anymore. And my mental state is much different than my father's was. This reminds me of something my father told me. I asked him the meaning of life and I remember him telling me mowing lawns. It was more than that, see email here. But mowing lawns is a simple and easy purpose one can focus on.

Terror Management Theory 

I'm currently reading The Worm at the Core after a friend's persistent recommendation. I shared some of my existential dread, and he said I have to read The Worm at the Core. The book is about terror management theory (TMT) and mortality salience (MS). I'm 20% into the book. Here are two definitions from peer reviewed articles to give a basic understanding of the theory.

"TMT postulates that investment in cultural worldviews and self-esteem serves to buffer the potential for death anxiety; the MS hypothesis states that, as a consequence, accessibility of death-related thought (MS) should instigate increased worldview and self-esteem defense and striving."

"Terror management theory states that the awareness of death has the potential to create debilitating anxiety and compromise psychological well-being and that psychological buffers (e.g., self-worth) protect against these adverse effects." 

Reading a book about death makes you think a lot about death. But according to the theory, I should be holding onto my cultural values an securing my self-esteem. I don't feel like I am doing either. I don't fear death nor feel anxious about death, not consciously at least.

But after reading and researching, I cannot help see TMT everywhere: characters on TV, people in the news, and or friends and family. I watched Fleabag and the main character uses sex to boost her self-esteem after, spoiler, her mom and best friend died. I'm like the little boy from Sixth Sense, except I see TMT people.

I'm not suggesting the theory is true. I don't think it's true. There are several other theories and criticisms. But TMT and death is prevalent in society, media, and daily life. Confirmation bias reinforces TMT. Even though I know confirmation bias is affecting me, TMT affects my thoughts.

It is a rabbit hole worthy of exploration

Conclusion 

What still gets me is grappling with a meaningless life, by the standard of being forgot after I die. I know this worry is meaningless, but still.

My life has meaning now because I give it meaning. My family, friends, students, and colleagues are connected to my life's meaning. But when I reflect, those deep questions have unsatisfying answers.

I find myself thinking about the past more than ever. All the things I wish I would have done. Careers and degrees I should have followed. Experiences I drank away.

I don't find any solace in my culture. My self-esteem feels stable, and I don't think I'm a narcissist. I'm closer to Buddhist's ideas of the self being an illusion. Maybe that is why I don't fit into the TMT model, or maybe that's why I do?

Good news though! Today is not the worse day of my life and neither have any of the days this year. And when I die, I will not have never ending consciousness. So I got that going for me which is nice.