It seems apropos that I read an article by Sasha Sagan on her father, Carl Sagan, the day before learning of the death of someone close to me and my boyfriend. I think, in part, we knew that her time was coming to an end. We both know time is not a fixed object, aging and death is part of a mysterious cycle that we’ve yet to explore. Is there an after-life? Is there reincarnation? Or do we disappear into energy, scattered back into the universe? With all the various ways we try to comfort ourselves by the passing of our loved ones, are we ever ready when the time comes? The real question is, must we be ready or do we play on with the age old rituals of births and deaths with tears, doubt, disbelief, laughter, and acceptance?
We go through life caught up with habits, waking up, going to work, eating and digesting, coming home. And we do this, day in and day out. We complain about our commute, the dreariness of work, the promotion and raises we deserve but never get. We complain about friends, food that’s bad, weather sucks, people being late, being rude, being slow.
But when death comes knocking on the door, all the complaints that makes the world seem weary become this tiny triviality. Why was I bothering to complain over this color on this site? Does it even matter in the spectrum of time and humanity?
I have only ever encountered death a couple of times in my life. But all my life, from the moment I could comprehend language, my mother used to always prepare me mentally and emotionally, “one day, I won’t be here. I need you to be an adult and take care of your siblings. You are all they will have when I die.” I used to think my mother was rather melodramatic because she’s quite alive and healthy at the moment. But it made me think about death often. What would happen beyond death? What would happen if I never saw her again? What would happen after I’m gone? I haven’t seen the world. I’m scared of death.
Facing death of a loved one always makes me afraid, scared of my own mortality.
And no matter if I know life ends, whether by a long term illness or stupendous event, I am always taken aback by the sheer shock of life. It is a blessing but also a curse. A blessing because I got to live on this planet. A curse because I spent so much time moping instead of rejoicing.
With all the comfort we get from religion, self help books, and family and friends, we will never be ready. As humans, we always have that tiny desire for Hope, hope that it’ll pass, that our loved ones are going to live forever with us. I have come to accept that yes, death is eventual. But it doesn’t mean I have to be stoic and cold and distant about it. I have come to find out that I’ll never be ready. I’ll always want more time. And it’s okay. It’s ok to dwell in those thoughts but it’s also important to know that life continues.
Life and death is the way of nature, just like tears and fears and courage and curiosity. We cry, we laugh, we love, and we explore life. Why not cry, laugh, love, and explore this concept of death with an open heart and open mind?
Cry, if you must.
Love, if you must.
Be angry, if you so want.
But never look back on life in could haves, should haves, and would haves. Instead, look back with what was and what had been, all the memories that you carry as snapshots of a wondrous life. And continue living because it might just be the only life we’ll ever have.