Native to the Americas, the turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) travels widely in search of sustenance. While usually foraging alone, it relies on other individuals of its species for companionship and mutual protection. Sometimes misunderstood, sometimes feared, sometimes shunned, it nevertheless performs an important role in the ecosystem.
This scavenger bird is a marvel of efficiency. Rather than expend energy flapping its wings, it instead locates uplifting columns of air, and spirals within them in order to glide to greater heights. This behavior has been mistaken for opportunism, interpreted as if it is circling doomed terrestrial animals destined to be its next meal. In truth, the vulture takes advantage of these thermals to gain the altitude needed glide longer distances, flying not out of necessity, but for the joy of it.
It also avoids the exertion necessary to capture live prey, preferring instead to feast upon that which is already dead. In this behavior, it resembles many humans.
It is not what most of us would consider to be a pretty bird. While its habits are often off-putting, or even disgusting, to members of more fastidious species, the turkey vulture helps to keep the environment from being clogged with detritus. Hence its Latin binomial, which translates to English as "golden purifier."
I rarely know where the winds will take me next, or what I might find there. The journey is the destination.
I have recently learned that birthdays are beneficial; people who have more birthdays live longer than those who don't.
All joking aside, with my diagnosis last May, I've had to look at the possibility that I may have few birthdays left. I do not fear death; I'm just not ready yet.
Not to make light of this, but we are much better prepared in understanding reaching the end of life now and possibly even more so with the use of AI. So, why not ask an AI about my potential death situation?
After assuring me that it couldn't guarantee the answer it provides would happen, it asked me to provide a lot of life and health information about myself and family history for several generations back. Once it said it should have enough, I asked it my question.
"Will die being 'lucid'?"
It's answer came quick and to the point. "No. You will die with the name you have today."
I actually don't think what my mom experienced is the norm. When I look at my grandparents' (and the squids') deaths, they skew either quick or prolonged with little lucidity involved. My co-worker's husband also lost tough with reality while slowly dying of cancer a few years ago. My mom being almost hyper aware of the world around her as she was actively dying seemed to catch a lot of people off guard.
Elisa, Snowman Stik- Is it really? I kind of thought that was the... I don't know, default expectation, I guess. The thing that's considered the normal end of life, and often portrayed in fiction for closure: illness, deathbed, death. It's certainly what I thought would eventually happen to my parents, way back when I had my first childhood thoughts about mortality.
The author of the article I linked describes something like that happening to her friend. Again, I'm not trying to play "what's worse" here. Dealing with death sucks, period, and I daresay it's worse when it's family. My mom's siblings all went that way, as well as my dad's half-brother. Dementia is, I think, less common, as is the sudden and unexpected variety. But it all sucks to deal with, even if the person involved has lived a long and full life.
All I mean to say up there is that, for myself, selfishly, I'd rather just... end.
I can say from personal experience that there's a third option for how to die: somewhat slowly but lucidly. Only in my mom's last week was she struggling to be fully aware of where she was, but even then she still knew when people were around and who they were. I feel like this way is forgotten about in discussions of death, and to this day this frustrates me.
I can handle the physical decline (although my mind keeps refuses to accept it and so I tend to overdo ). It's the loss of mental acuity that worries me. I really can't grasp that I'm in my 80th year. I've decided that my choice of demise is to be shot by a jealous husband when I hit 90.
🌝 HuntersMoon- funny, but the actual rock used in the construction of some of those buildings came from a quarry near the place where I grew upspent my childhood, so I'm very familiar with that particular stonewalling.
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