After hearing about the death of actress Natasha Richardson after falling during a skiing lesson, I found myself saddened and shocked. I think the most stunning factor was that she didn’t take a horrible fall down a double-black diamond run, nor did she collide with a tree – she took what seemed to be a very simple tumble down the bunny hill. She was laughing and joking about it when she got back up and appeared to be fine. Then within the hour she was being rushed to the hospital with excruciating head pain, and before we knew it she was being announced as being brain dead. Tonight I read that they had taken her off life support and she had passed away.

Normally, celebrity deaths make me sad but then the day goes on. This one is haunting and I think it’s because it was just so abrupt. A long time ago, I had one of those deep philosophical discussions in college (in other words, a group of us had been doing tequila shots and decided to talk about heavy matters while inebriated) as to whether you’d rather have a lengthy illness and know you’re going to die or whether you’d rather die quickly.

I had always said quickly. I said I’d rather just die immediately in an accident or slip away in my sleep. I didn’t want to have to sit around and ponder my own mortality.

But that’s changed as I’ve gotten older. I’m only 34, I don’t feel like I’ve got one foot in the grave just yet, but I’m old enough that all kinds of things do indeed make me ponder that mortality. Having kids did that. Having more and more people in my life pass away did that. Experiencing the signs of aging – putting your back out for no good reason, having random aches and pains – have done that too.

Now I think I would really like to change my answer. While I don’t exactly hope for a long, painful illness that leaves me suffering for months, I would much rather know. I’d rather hear a doctor tell me I have X amount of weeks or months to live than just go on my merry little way only to be hit by a truck and killed instantly. In that time given to me by doctors I could get things in order, I could do the things that you always put off (and some would argue that you should do those things anyway, but that’s just the way life often is – you procrastinate because there are bills to pay or floors to mop), and most importantly I could find the time to say good-bye to the people that I love.

Natasha Richardson had a husband and two young sons, as well as a mother and siblings. Of course they all knew that she loved them, but given the choice, I’m sure that she would have preferred to be able to say it one more time, to actually say the words, “I love you” to them before leaving and with the incredible speed of her brain injury, there was no time for that. They apparently kept her on life support so that family could come and say goodbye to her but I’m willing to bet that she would have wished for time to say goodbye too.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this, just that it was sitting there in my head, nagging at me. This is the sort of thing where you want to go see everyone that you care about and tell them that – just in case.

I definitely change my mind on how I want to go. I want the time and I want to be able to squeeze as much into that time – whatever it may be – as I possibly can.

(Also, I realize that this is two posts in a row about death. I promise I’ll be more cheerful next post.)