I don’t want to die, or rather, I’m not ready to die, I feel like I just started living. Death unfortunately, cares not for my unresolved issues. Whether the bed is made and ready or not, death will make me sleep in it regardless.
I first got introduced to death at church. Jesus died for me, “celebrate his sacrifice freeing me from the bondages of sin”. The construct of that always felt distance. Not because it doesn’t relate, it’s more because maybe I only knew Jesus through the people around me and at church. Possibly also being a child, the full heaviness of death did not sink in entirely.
I met death again through the unoccupied body of my father. The day he was buried, I wept like a child, mucus, tears, all of it. Death had very much become real and extremely painful. The only equaliser life, became not being alive.
The older I’ve become, the more real and intense death has become. People are not longer characters restrained to the confines of my mind.
Dust to dust. Yes, I know death is inevitably expected on every street corner. Through every inhale drawn into my lungs. For every action which could be my last. For every unresolved tear rolling down my cheeks. I know, death is but a permanent institution awaiting a request to transport me to the ‘great unknown’.
I’ve even figured out how it happens, the heart won’t pump anymore, at times the pain is agonising to go through. Some are considered lucky enough to fall asleep in death. Regardless of how one dies, the news of death shockingly sweeps through households as individuals find different ways to grieve.
I’ve been in the boxing ring with 2018 and after 9 rounds, I’m certain there was a mismatch in weight divisions. I’ve beem on the ropes since the starting bell. Everytime I duck or block I begin to feel like, there is a fighting chance. 2018 shares none of my hopeful sentiments as I receive jab after jab, monday was the upper cut.
Funerals are not for the dead. Funerals are for the living, funerals are moments to freeze the clock and grieve. The world moves, on regardless of loss but I have to grieve. Breakdown in shock and allow the surreal to wash me over.
I don’t know how you grieve. I however, cry, my knees give out, I can’t stand no more. The world feels like its getting smaller round my throat. There have even been times, when I wished it was me who died, still do.
To bury someone we love is never easy, nor should it be. My only hope when its all said and done, as they bury us, is that we lived a passion filled life.
When they buried you, they planted a seed in me. I will not go silently into that goodnight!