“Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.” Ernest Hemingway
Life
I sprung up from somewhere in circumstances right or wrong without my consent. I would have liked it but conditions were less than ideal. There were lots of struggles to contend with growing up, especially physical outlook. People only see outside appearance when beauty attracts like the glorious sunrise or sunset. But you learn to ignore many ugly things, although some of them scar you for life.
Mistakes made, lessons learned then mistakes repeated. It’s a never-ending education propelling you to either success or failure. Happy when everything aligns as it should be like the known planets around the sun. Misery for dreams never materialized. There are so many factors to form the structure of your being. Hard efforts are good, luck sometimes makes it easy. Suffering builds character, not chosen is just a curse,
It dulls life when it should be lived. Test your mettle, your boundaries, your limits. Never give up until there is hope. The only chance to pass this way – your journey alone. Now it’s your turn to share your genes – for love, for family. There are more sacrifices you allow yourself. Sleepless nights, worries, tight budgets, they all make you old. Still you persist for the thread of life to survive while Earth remained livable for billions more years.
Climate change wreaks havoc while billionaires conquer the dark space as the new adventure for the rich.
Meanwhile, the home you and your beloved built empties out. Noisy laughter turns into a silent, retirement living. But the silver lining of a new generation creates a legacy to be proud of – perhaps. Baby smiles make grandparents forget the aches and pains of tired bones. Visiting is a must while they are young, curious and lovable.
Downsizing becomes your mantra after years of accumulating material things that never satisfy. There is more rest than the body requires. Sleep at night is interrupted by the call of nature. Watch the rhythm of your breath and your beloved, or else the witch’s hour chimes unexpectedly. Then grief settles in forever. Remembering, too, might be in jeopardy – a déjà vu scenario is a prison sentence.
The law has to catch up when life’s quality is over in spite of religion’s opposition. While the body and mind remain strong, be active to find a purpose. Too much idle time produces hopelessness. Better to do household chores than nothing at all. It’s nice once in a while to look at the rear view mirror. Most of the time driving hazard is in front and at the side. Maintain your focus for what is ahead; stop looking at the stars.
There is no more fortune to be made. Lotteries are just a waste of money. Better give your money to your grandchildren. They’ll need it more than the government. Charity starts at home. Although giving to strangers makes you feel better about yourself and clears the conscience – a brownie point to heaven. Your soul needs nurturing; just as loneliness becomes more prominent. We all need to be loved.
A canvas of life is sketched, unique of its own. There are regrets for sure. They don’t matter at the end. I can be proud or sad; this too may not matter. For in the scheme of things, nature is indifferent. I am but a tiny dot, invisible to the eyes of God. Those who have done more will sparkle, their lives are written in history books. Mine is erased for eternity, no trace that I once stepped on the sands of time.
Death
A matter of faith to believe in life which conquers death. Religion has the answer from the beginning of time. The God of Creation whom we should pay homage lest we miss out Heaven – the eternal peace. In contrast, there is Hell – the eternal suffering. I fear so I should believe. At young age, good behaviour is the norm, punishment allowed. Good boys and girls always go to Heaven.
Nobody knows really what Heaven or Hell looks like. But religion must paint a picture borrowed from a poet of imagination. For years, people were scared. The unknown destination, guarded by a Saint with a list of good and bad deeds, death becomes a nightmare. Prolong life if possible, though old age deteriorates the good in life. Some have become more secular. They seek early death protected by the law of the land.
Humans are weak and easily tempted. We also like second chances, redemption and forgiveness. Prayers, religious rites and priests are antidotes to total damnation. We are saved once more. Whatever religion says is divinely sanctioned. Who are we to doubt? I believed all these when I was young. Now I think Heaven or Hell is just an illusion. From the books of enlightenment, perhaps God does not exist.
Infinity is hard to prove, so is God. We can only make sense through our limited mind and experience. I wish there is life after death, but what else am I going to do? The short, earthly life seems to be long already. Immortality is not for me. I just need courage to face the inevitable. Look Death in the eye and say: “I’m ready!” Every night before I go to sleep, I take a deep breath, anticipating that it will be my last.
Death makes coward of us all! Not only the unknown mystery but the manner of pain when it happens. Those who commit suicide are brave. I long for easy death like a permanent sleep. No consciousness, no feeling of the presence. Let my soul stay in my body and not drift away. I cannot appear like a ghost for my loved ones. I need to feel them, to embrace them, not a fog of breeze that makes everyone cold.
I have seen so many deaths but still not used to them. Always afraid to touch, I approach the dead body with consternation. Expression of death is almost the same at the funeral parlor. Yet it is hard to fathom the same familiar person. The permanence of absence grieves the heart. Relatives, friends and acquaintances watch you to judge your measure of love. Lack of tears invites contempt. Do you pretend?
When family members and friends meet Death, your turn is just around the bend. Each day alive, another chance to see the memorial page of a newspaper. Beautiful words flow with loving memories. The dedications are for the living, to ease the burden of longing, when they mean more while the person is alive. I do not measure up nor do I expect to grace a page. I myself cannot say nice things about me.
Death is the final journey you take alone. It is a scary thought your life has come to an end. To know that everybody dies is a consolation. But then you are a history and the brush of erasure is sure to come. You will be forgotten! Of course, not all will have the same fate. Lucky are they who are commemorated! I have no such illusion. When the time comes, I am happy to be gone forever like I never existed at all.
9 November 2022