Every afternoon, no matter the weather, the commandant blows his whistle and the fourteen-year-olds trot outside and he looms over them with his coat stretched across his belly and his medals chiming and the rubber hose twirling.

 “There are two kinds of death,” he says, the clouds of his breath plunging out into the cold. “You can fight like a lion. Or you can go as easy as lifting a hair from a cup of milk. The nothings, the nobodies—they die easy.”

 He sweeps his eyes along the ranks and swings his hose and widens his eyes dramatically.

“How will you boys die?”

From “All the Light We Cannot See: A Novel” by Anthony Doerr

In this beautiful novel, Anthony Doerr wrote this challenging paragraph: “There are two kinds of death,” he says, the clouds of his breath plunging out into the cold. “You can fight like a lion. Or you can go as easy as lifting a hair from a cup of milk.”

Most people pray for an easy death— while asleep or a sudden demise without giving you time to watch the end approach you. I would like a fast death but would rather see it coming to say goodbye to this world. No one prefers protracted agony.

In my last post, I narrated the freak accident that almost killed me instantaneously. I guess I was not going to get out of this world that smoothly. But, I am still signed up for the easy way of departure. After all, most of us belong to those who Anthony Doerr calls “the nothings, the nobodies” and will be missed only by our families and friends.