The dying man doesn’t have to worry about anything.
Not even the fears that crumble others and prevent them from stepping out onto those terrains that they love to tread on but who’s fears serve to prevent such a venture.
The worst frame of death to the dying man must (since I’m afraid I’ve never been in that kinda situation before) be child’s play.
His own death he must fear the most because still filled with dreams and hopes (not dying empty but full) is enough to make the ghost of the dead man hunt himself till he probably dies the second time (death in death). Maybe that’s why the dying man, at all costs, comes to terms with his own reality and desperately attempts to get himself rid of all encumbrances, the burden of gifts and talents unutilised but fully locked somewhere away inside of him…perennially knocking at the walls of his heart, seeking expression.
If he dies full, he dies miserable. Hence, the advice as offered by almost all great and clear-headed individuals “Live your everyday as if it was the last” “Die empty”.
Purge yourself of the gifts in you for the benefits of the world. By the world, let’s mean the people and animals immediately and remotely around us.
Let people eat the fruits of our trees.
Only then are you permitted to die.
Only then is dying a sweet experience.
Only then is the sweet experience of any significance.
“Live your everyday as if it was the last”