What to make of it all

I have spend many nights last year and this one, coming to terms with death. It has been terrifying to lay above my sheets and think about when that time comes, as my Father and Aunt would have had to do. I consider the gentle creeping up of a death sentance lying over their idea of themself and settling into their crevace. Did it ooze among their bones and arteries?Did it mellow into their soft organs? Did it talk to their body of the foreboding to come? There is no language for it, just an instinct of a trepidation. That is how I imagined it. Then what of that illness as it becomes intrenched within you and those around you are either pretending or so threatened by the fear of it that they too become struck dumb to speak of it! You are in limbo between wanting it to end and wanting it to stay because DEATH seems terrifying, and you realise that it is now your turn. It is your turn and you are terrified. But guess what? You may linger in this limbo, or you may leave very soon. Facing so much death, I have also taken my mind even further. I wonder about the crossing over part. You are told not to be afraid. You are told that you are enveloped in a warm, positive light and you will meet your caring family on the other side. I ask the question, suppose that that is only a placibo? You do feel all of that, and when your family on Earth accept it, and they bury you or cremate you, that placibo falls away and now you end up as you began...no consciousness, no awareness of self. You are DEAD. You do not exist any more. Till death do us part and pray for us at the hour of our death...not after the hour, AT the hour and, obtain for them eternal rest. Eternal rest suggests absolute sleep. That is all we know. We say SLEEP. We do not say eternal joy or eternal transposition. I would lie down in my bed and I would imagine what would happen when It would be my turn to get that visitor. That inevitable visitor?