BCPRESS

What I am about to share is quite a personal story. It happened a few years ago when I was about 10 years old when I first grasped the idea of death and what it means to be dead. I hope it will help those who have bent through similar experiences.

Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean. — David Searis

I remember the time when I first grasped the concept of death. It came to me from a really horrid dream…

Well, it wasn’t THAT horrid. I remembered this feeling of emptiness—vacant and silent—as I strolled through a lonely funeral of my own imagination; yes, that was all. (There was an empty square down my apartment, and funerals would be held there. The square would be covered with white cloth and inhabited by people in white, but I never knew what was inside despite having been curious about it for years).

When I woke up, I was paralyzed. It was so sudden, so abrupt.

Was that the feeling of death? So dark? So silent? So… alone?

It must be painful for me to die; this was thought so suddenly that it was set aside as soon as I finished breakfast.

But it was also a strong and frightening thought that constantly came slithering back to me, during nights when the moon was high in the sky but my mood low in my bed. What was death like? Why do bodies have to get burned after they die? Why don’t we preserve it and wait till it can be brought to life again one day in the future?

Why do we have to die?

“Dad? Dad? What happens after we die?” I shook my father up from sleep.

“Huh? Um, people will let you rest in a nice little coffin and let you get some rest, as you deserve after years of hardship. That’s what will happen. Now go to sleep.”

That was as far as my father got that night.

But how in the world am I going to rest in peace after dying so painfully?

I was fussing over being afraid of the process of death until…

I realized that there was nothing after death.

Nothing! What was nothing?

You rest in peace in a coffin. That’s all?! But we tried to live with so much difficulty for all our lives, and we come to… this?! Just to get a nice little coffin for ourselves?! What was the point to live then?

Ceasing to exist. Literally. Ceasing. To. Exist. You would leave everything you have; friends, toys, memories, your house—everything. Then you would proceed on by yourself—except… There was nowhere and no way for you to “proceed on”. Where will you go

No; there will be no “you” anymore. Because you just died and ceased to exist. You did not leave the world behind; it has left you, by yourself, alone, without mercy.

It was then that I grasped the painful truth. But I wasn’t going to accept it, no. Surely something will happen after you die… right?

The next few days passed like a blur. I stared blankly into space. My body ached and my heart wrenched to get out of bed every morning. I was not aware of my surroundings. All I could force out of my mouth was: I don’t want to die… I was confined by the unanswered question: what comes after death? Why do we have to die? What was the point of living if all it leads to was death?

My silence came so far as to a point that my father stopped school for me and stopped working for himself to accompany me. And thus, we started a week-long consulting session about the topic: of death.

My father and I talked and talked. (Well, it was mostly him talking).

“You received a ticket called life. Right? Okay, with this ticket, you get to explore a planet called Earth. You get to breathe its air, touch its grass, climb its trees, swim in its waters, and create connections with others like you who have gotten that ticket.

“But there is a time limit to this ticket, and when your time is up, death will come to pick you away. Where to? No one knows, but everyone will get the chance to find out.”

“But dad, after death picks us away, what happens to Earth? It is like you never existed!” Though terribly intrigued by my father’s story, I had to cut him short.

“What happens to Earth? That is up to you, child. You can leave Earth without leaving a single footprint—that might be the goal of many. Or… or you can stir things up a little, but in a good way, I mean. Leave something on Earth; leave something for the others who would visit it next. Let me put it this way: can you think of someone who has passed away?”

“Thomas Edison.” I blurted out.

“Right. You remember him. We all do. What did he do for Earth, for us?”

“He made a lightbulb.”

“Right, right. Whenever you see a lightbulb, you think of Thomas Edison. You see, death had picked him up, but everyone saw him waving proudly when he left. So, when you are still on Earth, make the best of it. Caress its breeze and experience it fully. Leave a positive mark for others.”

The week passed on with many other conversations like this. We even discussed religion and how it is a source of motivation for many. To many others, death is a reward after life. I was encouraged to look into religion, but I still came to conclude- Death is death. For me, there is no heaven up there, and we will have to deal with what we have to deal with.

Gradually I came out of the shadows. I was no longer afraid of death…… I still am, but I know that it’s inevitable. So, for those people who feel lost out there, live your life to its fullest. Take deep breaths and feel the breeze. After all, you’ve got to make your ticket to life worthwhile!