Newly Found Persepective.

I don't know how I could possibly ease this in, so I'm going to start the only way I know to.

What is the point to life when it can get taken away from us so quickly, whether we're 18 or 80?
What is the point to living, studying, being responsible, helpful, the best we can be?
And what is the point in focusing every ounce of our energy into things we don't even want to do so we can enjoy a life of luxury at 30, when we're dead at 19 or 20 or before that?

A few months ago, someone I knew died. A 17 year old boy woke up one morning and wanted a doughnut. So he left home, and was hit by a jeep. He flew into a lamp post and shattered his spine.
Time of death, 7:28 AM.

A few years ago, someone else i knew died. Another 17 year old boy partying on the roof of a building. He got shoved over, fell through a sheet of glass, and bled out.
Time of death, approximately 1:30 AM.

Doughtnuts and a party. Recipe for disaster.

Some of us believe that when someone is meant to die, no matter how old or healthy that person is, he or she WILL die. It WAS his time, or her time, there's nothing that could be done about it.
Some of those people believe that because their religion says that it is so, that your birth and death are written in stone. And others believe that, just so living is easier. It's easier when someone you love dies, because what you believe says that it wasn't your fault. Survivor's guilt is easier to bear when you feel that it simply wasn't your time. And its easier to live, to go out and buy a doughnut or go bungee jumping off of cliffs. Especially when the people around you are taken so suddenly, so STUPIDLY, that nothing feels safe.

As for myself, it's both those reasons. And you can call me a coward if you like, you can call all of those people cowards, you might even be calling yourself one. But is it REALLY weakness, when, no matter what the reason may be, people just try to make living this cruel reality a little easier?

I started writing this, because my grandmother died on the 2nd of December, 2009. To be honest, I don't think about her, but on rare occasions, I feel...guilty. And upset. And mortified that I didnt call her when she was lying on a hospital bed, rendered almost speechless because of the pain.

How Im personally dealing with death is another story, but I started writing this, because I was scared, and confused, and I wanted to know what the fucking point was.

So, I'm at the end of this..note, and I've been thinking, and I still don't know what the point is.
But I do understand this; that at some point I have to stop thinking about death, and stop worrying about the future, and I have to make sure that the people important to me know that I love them. And that I'm happy and healthy for as long as i DO live. And even if the world won't remember me when I'm gone, the really important people will love me and miss me for as long as they live.
It's cheesy, but its true.

I started writing this because I wanted an answer, and if not that, then maybe clarity and perspective.

I dont think an answer really exists anymore, but I found the rest. And I think I'm just going to have to live with that. :)