Life is so uncertain. When you contemplated death, it was something distant, something that happened to other people and not you. It may have an impact on other peoples’ lives, granted, but never yours. Because, like with most things unpleasant, we turn into ostriches: bury our necks in the sand, and hope that all the unpleasantness will just pass us by, harming not a hair on our heads. Well, here’s the deal: that’s not how real life works. Unpleasantness is a certainty, so is death. Death, in all its gruesomeness and cold harsh reality. It’s a leveller like no other, right: millionaire or pauper, it is inevitable and catches up with us all someday. It’s only a matter of time.
Why the morbid thoughts?
Let me share this:
I lost a couple of friends to a tragic accident only recently. Brothers, both, whom I'd known since childhood. We grew up together, the elder of the two, being in the same grade at school. There would be times we'd walk home from school together. Evenings were spent together, playing, riding bicycles, and as we grew older, taking walks by the sea and settling down to catch up on the day's news. Burning the midnight oil, as we studied for exams together, calmed each other when the panic of not having studied enough would set in. Childhood crushes, dreams, hopes and plans for the future were shared. While we weren't in touch very regularly as the years passed by, I always knew that they were there, in the back of my mind. Always a part of my life, and undoubtedly a very essential part of my childhood memories. And now, they're both no longer here, victims of an air crash.
Would it have been worse had we stayed more in touch? Would it hurt as much as it does now, to think of the waste of two young lives, and to realise that part of your own childhood has been erased, just like that, only to be charred beyond recognition? We'll never have them back again - that's when it sinks in, that death hits, and hits hard. Maybe it gets better over time, doesn't hurt as much - but who's to be the judge of that?