Death is a lapse of memory

"Death is a lapse of memory in the making"

At least that is what my tattoo says. I think idea is appealing to me and hearkens back to my big X Files days:

"I too have spent a life the sages' way,
And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance
I perished in an arrogant self-reliance
Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer
For one more chance went up so earnest, so
Instinct with better light let in by death,
That life was blotted out—not so completely
But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,
Dim memories, as now, when once more seems
The goal in sight again..."
  
Of course the text comes from an older and greater place than the X Files, but this is where I first heard it and truly, that was the place my thoughts and ideas on life, death and reincarnation began. (It is amazing how much the entertainment industry has shaped me.)
  
But when I am boldly and plainly brought before the topic of death I fall to pieces, despite my belief (or is it hope) that we come back to some sort of life and those we love.
  
A few weeks ago we had an in-service at work. A hospice had some folks come talk to us.  They told us about their experiences walking people through the dying process and the teaching, joy and sadness that come from it - the solace they lend to those in the last moments of their lives. Despite the fact we work in the medical field and deal with death (or the delay of it) on some level, we got teary and emotional. I held it in during the discussion, but once I left the lunch area and walked around, a nurse noted my distress and said, "they do good things."
  
I choked in my sentence of ,"what they do is beautiful" and had to receive a hug and then scramble to find an open bathroom. Eyes followed me and people wondered why  was so upset.
  
The act of dying scares me. This is irrational since I think there is something else out there, since I know it isn't really the end. But then again, I don't know what I know. I just hope.
  
Dying is apart of life, but I have no control of it or even control of what I feel about  it. I almost said "think" about it, but I know what I think...my emotions just take a less rational turn. It is tragic, the end of something big, no matter what comes afterwards. It is selfish since the dead don't know or care.
  
I'm being faced with death in a different way nowadays. I roomed a patient who crashed and was taken swiftly from the facility to the hospital. I fear I missed something during her intake that could have helped her. I don't know if she lived or not.
  
Last week I watched an old man go through a procedure he surely didn't want to go through. I stood on watching while the nurses worked and the doc and family discussed him like he wasn' there. My main focus was on his toenails, which were too long and gnarled and I wondered how he fit into his shoes.
  
This man has time left, but what is the quality of that time if he, or no one else, care enough to make sure his feet are in walking condition? If life and the care of it fall to the wayside what is the point? Then they told him he had to stop drinking coffee. Without that, what is the point? The little joys and pleasures in life, whether they come down to coffee or the ability to walk to the crapper, are what make life worth living.
  
I guess I just hope my tattoo and Frank the French Canadian are right: that death is a lapse of memory in the making and once all the pain and degrading horror of it are over, you can start again.