2008 has been a fabulous year for me so far. It’s rather early in the day, I know. But I still feel it’s worth mention. The year began on an upbeat note and the going so far has been more than good. But many I know have lost someone dear this year. It’s really depressing; especially when it’s only February yet. A good friend lost his dad last month. My neighbour lost his wife- a mother of two pre-teen daughters, one of our clients lost a bright young executive – the guy was not even 30. It’s not like any of them were ailing for months and waiting their turn, or biding their time. It just happened.
I am in no mood for my usual sarcasm or spell of contorted humour; moreover am late for this month’s post. It’s my third attempt on this post and I shamelessly admit that the previous two attempts neither began nor ended well.
Writing about death is so different and difficult to even the most articulate of men. I think it is simple, complex, consequential, trivial, expectable, surprising and shocking, all at the same time. I have heard this question countless times in the last couple of months. Almost all of us ask this question when we lose someone too close to our heart: Where does one go, after life?
Religion in its multitude has its explanations to offer. Every religion has a carefully crafted guidebook of life’s instructions and all philosophy is centred on the mysterious concept of death, thrusting the fear of the unknown deep into our hearts. So we’ve all been told about heaven, hell and earth. Though we convince ourselves to believe, all of us still want to know where we’ll all head one day.
Thankfully my perception of afterlife is somewhat stable; I am proud to say. But the bloody truth I am yet to accept is that one day my worldly possessions would cease to be mine. My beautiful bikes, my collections of knives and lighters, my books, my movies, and me, myself? Feels like a firm kick on the bottom with a metal boot.
Alas, a few hours of profound thinking and a few cigarettes before concluding the post did their job. It did dawn upon me that as humans we are endowed with memories. It’s one of the few things that differentiate us from animals. The kind of people we have been; of stuff we’ve done for those around us; of good things and good times. They are the inseparable part of ourselves that we leave behind; a little of it in everyone we meet in our lives everyday. So, as long as the good memories remain, one really doesn’t go away anywhere. This is my learning from the fond memories I have; of those who've lived beyond life.
It doesn't take much effort to be pleasant, good or even helpful. And it’s never too early, or never too late to start. Now is just right to make a beginning. As for me, I would love to be remembered as a good writer. So, even if you find my writing boring beyond description, please remember to forgive me. It's good.