Is it weird that I’ve already thought about my “perfect” death scenario? I’d like to think it’s a pretty normal thing to think about, but it’s not exactly a topic you can ask other people in passing conversation.

I started thinking more and more about it recently after watching a couple of movies featuring older main characters: Amour, directed by Michael Haneke, and Poetry, directed by Lee Chang Dong.

Both of these films feature an older female protagonist who develops health issues (in Amour, Anne, played by Emmanuelle Riva, has a stroke, and in Poetry, Mi-ja, played by Yoon Jeong-Hee, struggles with Alzheimer’s disease) and begins a tough journey towards the end of their lives. While they were both very touching films (Poetry made it’s way into my Letterboxd Top 4), they also made me fearful of getting older, and have made me think more about how I’d like to leave this world once time is officially up for me.

Ideally, I would be in my late 80s or early 90s, and my extended family would be over at my house to celebrate some sort of life event. Could be my birthday, could be someone else’s birthday, could be for a holiday get together. We’d spend the whole day cooking delicious meals together, enjoy the food with a nice glass of wine at dinner (by that age, I don’t think I’ll be drinking at all, but I’d give in and have one glass just to signify that it’s a memorable moment for our family), and end the day with some board games late into the night with the whole family, especially the grandkids who would do anything to stay up past their bedtime. 

Once everyone feels too tired, we’d all give each other hugs and tell each other good night, and I’d go to my room to sleep and pass away peacefully in my bed. Hopefully, when everyone wakes up the next day, the shock of my death isn’t too long-lasting, and they feel some comfort knowing that they spent quality time with me, and could send me off as gently as possible. 

They’d put my ashes into one of those biodegradable cremation urns, and I’d eventually grow into a strong tree that will live on for hundreds and hundreds of years until I get chopped down and turned into a box of No. 2 pencils, or a ream of paper (which feels poetic in a way, there’s definitely something about “starting a new chapter” and “writing a new story” there, but I don’t feel the need to flesh that out too much right now).

The trope of avoiding death is rife throughout cinema and literature, and every story comes to the same conclusion—that it’s inevitable. In a way, I think death isn’t the scary part. It’s the moments leading up to it that I’m more fearful of. 

A couple years ago, my grandma had an accident and had to go to the hospital. After doing some physical therapy, she got better, but randomly fell into a coma one day and stayed in that state for a year until she passed away. I don’t know if she was fully conscious while she was in her coma, or if she could feel pain, but I can’t imagine spending the last year of my life in a hospital not being able to move, and not fully understanding what is happening. 

I know there’s no use in worrying about things before they happen, so I’m trying to think more about the things that I can enjoy in my life in the present. 

I just hope that death will look upon me kindly when it’s inevitably my turn to go.