Getting over my fear of death

Most people fear death. It's a healthy fear that generally stops us needlessly throwing our lives away. But when fear of death becomes an obsession, it's not healthy at all.

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When I was 18 months old I got very ill with bronchial pneumonia, following a bout of measles and whooping cough. The bronchial pneumonia made me acutely ill roughly every fortnight, for several years, until I was about four and a half years old, and the doctors found out what was causing it. I had an operation and got better.

During the three years I was ill, I came close to death several times, but luckily I survived. Despite the fact that I was too young to be even talking properly when the illness started, the experience left me with a determination to find out what death was, and what happened when you died.

Later on in my childhood I became obsessed with ghost stories, horror stories and superstitions, and in my teens and 20s, I developed a strong interest in the supernatural.

I wasn't a total obsessive – I did have other interests too!

Bizarre fear of old people

As a child, I had an enormous fear of death – not just for myself, but of other people dying too. This might have been because when I was about two or three years old, and in hospital, a small child of the same age whom I had become good friends with, disappeared one day. When I asked where she was, I was told that she had died.

I was devastated, and after a while, in an effort to comfort me, my mum tried to pretend that it hadn't really happened, and told me that only old people died. As a result, as a small child I developed a terrible fear of old people (apart from my grandparents) because I was worried that they would suddenly drop dead.

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I developed a bizarre fear of the old and the sick

Even as I grew up, this fear persisted and I often felt anxious and overly protective around old and sick people, worrying about every cough or stumble.

Trying to run away from death

For years I honestly thought that when my own parents became old I would just want to run away from them.

Then in August 2012, my father – who had been in poor health for years – had a stroke. I was actually surprised at my own reaction.

I was in the shower when the news came via a recorded message from my mum. I didn't notice the message on my phone until 30 minutes after she'd left it, and as soon as I heard it, I dropped everything, ran for my car and BELTED to the hospital at speed.

Instead of running away, as I had feared might be my reaction, I found that I was rushing as fast as I could to be with Dad. Thankfully he had survived, and for the next four months I visited Dad on a daily basis at first, and then every other day, in hospital and then in a care home when he was moved there.

Me and Dad on a family holiday in the 1990s.

Instead of Dad's last illness being a scary time, I found that I was happy to be able to help him and make him feel a bit better. I felt that our relationship deepened in an unexpected way.

I was hoping against hope that Dad would get better and survive a few years more, but he died in December of that year. I was with him on the night he died, although I wasn't with him at the actual point of death (apparently he just fell asleep and didn't wake up).

Breaking bad news

My sister was out of the country at the time, and I phoned her to tell her the news. I had never, ever imagined that I would be able to do that. I felt terribly upset, but at the same time incredibly grateful that we'd been able to share that time with Dad, and grateful that he'd had such a wonderful long life (he was 87 when he died).

Dad never seemed to be afraid of death, and he'd planned his funeral in detail. I was happy to speak at his funeral, and my sister sang. It felt as if death had brought an end to his suffering and a new chapter for Dad and for all of us.

A family photo from the 1960s. Left to right: Dad, me (before I got ill), Mum, an older cousin and my Grandma.

I'm not really interested in supernatural stuff now – not because I don't believe in it, just that I have other interests that occupy my time. However, a curious thing happened just before Dad died, which I find comforting.

Dad was from the Bahamas in the Caribbean, but had lived in Scotland since 1948. He always had a kind of mid-Atlantic accent. But when me and Mum were at Dad's bedside, shortly before he died, he suddenly started talking in a strong Bahamian accent with his eyes closed, seemingly talking to old friends and relatives. His eyes would periodically open, and he was able to give intelligent responses to glib questions that we asked him, like "How are you feeling?"

But when his eyes closed, the Bahamian talk would start again.

At the time it gave me a chill, as I didn't want to face the fact that he was dying, but after he died, it made me feel that... maybe he was being welcomed back by old friends and relatives.

Becoming more relaxed about death

I still have a healthy fear of death, but I'm so much more relaxed about the subject than I used to be. Several of my friends and many of my relatives have died, especially over the past winter, which was grim. I've never actually been with someone when they passed away, and I still don't know if I could face that.

I have enormous admiration for health service workers who have to face death on a daily basis.

One of my best friends died of cancer 10 years ago. She was 65 at the time, and she had been in denial that death was a possibility. She hadn't made a will, and her possessions were in a bit of a mess, which her brother and sister-in-law had to sort through, with the help of friends. Her entire estate reverted to an overseas relative whom she was estranged from.

After that experience, I made a will. My lawyer drew it up, and it cost me about £30 (about $40).

These days I try to prepare my mind for death, which I certainly hope is not imminent, by meditation and philosophy. I'm interested in Buddhism and lucid dreaming (which Buddhists refer to as "dream yoga").

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Reality is all in our minds.

I have no idea whether lucid dreaming can give us insights into "life after death", and in any case, I rarely have lucid dreams, but reading and thinking about the subject reminds me that this reality that we call life is all in our minds really. All our sensations are channelled through our brains, and lucid dreaming to me is a reminder that other realities are possible!

I'm not saying that Buddhism is the best religion. Many of its ideas and philosophies appeal to me, although I'm not a practising Buddhist. I don't see why people shouldn't practise more than one religion if they want to. All religions seem to try and answer the question of why we're here and what lies beyond this mortal coil.

I hope that I have a few more decades on this planet, as there's a lot I want to do. I know that death is a reality, an inevitability, and I hope that when it comes, I'll be ready for it .