What is the right age to die?

I wrote the following commentary a few months ago but I feel it's still relevant to my journey for inner peace today....


It's January.  I'm halfway between my sister and brother's birthdays.  My sister's 54th birthday was in December and February will bring my brother's 57th.  54 and 57.  When I was a kid, you might as well have said they'll turn a hundred and fifty-four or a thousand and fifty-seven.  Anyone in their 50s had one foot in the grave in my young opinion but now that I've entered my forties, fifty suddenly sounds like the new 30.  In fact, as I barrel toward middle-age at break-neck speed, I can't imagine feeling old in my 50s and I certainly believe it's too young to die.  Unfortunately my sister and brother didn't see the same value in dying of old-age-- unfortunately they didn't have the desire to see the world change around them or to sit on the front porch with their grandkids imparting age-old pearls of wisdom like "back in my day" or "in the good ol' days" or even spinning a tale about walking three miles in the snow to school each day, uphill both ways.

No, my brother and sister made the selfish decision to die early....very early.  My brother died years ago when he was only 27.  It was the worst day of my life that year and maintained that title for many years.  He overdosed on several drugs but was in the middle of a party when he took them, playing pool and gambling with his friends.  I have no doubt it was an accidental overdose, but lethal never the less.

My sister on the other hand chose to die over a much longer period of time.  She started experimenting with drugs in high school but waited almost forty years to succumb to the addiction and her death was not nearly so accidental.  It technically occurred over a period of a few days but in actuality her death spiral began at least a dozen years ago.  A dozen years of mentally and emotionally burying a loved one takes a toll on a person.  A dozen or so years of preparing for someone's ultimate demise still doesn't prepare a person.  On July 9, 2010, after so many years of waiting for the phone call I knew was coming, the phone finally rang.  A dozen or so years of holding my breath and I still can't take a deep breath.

It probably seems odd that I'm blogging about this now but I guess their birthdays placed my memories back on the front burner of my mind.  Even though my sister's death is less than six months old, I truly believe I've been prepping for it for most of my life.  There's no logic, no words to explain why I'm struggling to get past these life defining events since I've had so much time to prepare but should logic be applied in this situation?  I don't think so.  I understand completely how losing a family member can take months or even years to recover from.  What I don't understand is why it's taking ME so long.