To Die & To Be Left Behind
By Regina Aileenteena
Original art by Briaanna Chiu
I think about death a lot. I don’t really want to die yet, but I know that death is an inevitable event that will happen to everyone without any exceptions. It is as natural as birth, yet it is not talked about as much. It is the ending of our life story, yet it is not celebrated, unlike the beginning. I’m not saying that we should celebrate someone’s death, of course—losing someone is never easy. I am saying, however, that maybe we should talk about death more openly.
The biggest question surrounding death is probably where we go after that. Raised as a Catholic, I was told that we would either go to Heaven or Hell depending on how good or bad we were when alive. I believed in this as a child, but now, I’m not so sure anymore. As I grew up, things that were very black and white became grey. Lying is said to be bad, but then white lies are sometimes seen as necessary. Killing is considered a horrible thing, but executing someone who has done deeds harmful to others is seen as justice. The lines get blurry. To what extent is a ‘bad’ act considered acceptable? If I ask every person in this world this question, the answers would undoubtedly vary. Uncertainty might be the only certainty in this world.
The idea of reincarnation is interesting to me. I once read or heard somewhere that if you ask a child who is of talking age but under three years old about their previous life, they would be able to tell you. I have no idea if this is true or not as I have never tested it myself (I don’t know any kid under three, and even if I did, I wouldn’t dare ask them in case they say something incredibly creepy). I have, however, seen many people on the internet share stories about stuff their kids have said. Are they telling the truth? Who knows. People on the internet lie all the time. But I do think that the idea of being reborn without any recollection of your past life and meeting people from said past life again who have also been reborn is kind of romantic.
My late grandfather from my mother’s side has visited me in my dreams twice so far. During his last visit, I asked him about how it was “there”. I didn’t specify what I meant by “there” in my dream, but I meant the afterlife—or wherever he is now after he passed—and he understood that. All he did was give me a small laugh and say that I should see it by myself one day. When I woke up, I thought, damn, I couldn’t get anything even from a trusted source. Still, I believe that the one who spoke to me was really my grandfather instead of an image created by my brain as my dreams tend to get highly fantastical. There’s a reason why I said he has visited me twice instead of the three times that I have actually dreamt about him since his passing—in one of those dreams, he broke into my high school with his hair dyed sky blue while holding a flute for no reason.
What comes after death is probably the best-kept secret in the whole world. I have accepted the fact that we’ll probably never know anything until our time comes. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with preparing for it, though, and so I told my friends not to cry at my funeral, which I realize now makes me seem a little bit cocky—who’s going to cry for you anyway? But I wanted them to share funny or weird things that we went through together and just laugh. One of them replied an okay, a casual response which made me giggle. When I told my family the same thing, however, my dad told me not to talk about “this kind of thing”. I responded by saying that it’s not like I’m going to die faster just by talking about it (unless there’s some kind of curse that I’m unaware of—in which case, I’m probably screwed). He insisted that it was still better to not discuss such things.
Whether or not someone wants to talk about it, death is an event as natural as birth. Every life in this world has to come to an end eventually. It might be difficult, painful, heart-wrenching, and heart-breaking, but time will heal. I wrote this partly for myself who might one day deal with a loss that makes me wish for my time to come as well, but also partly for those who might be in mourning. I doubt the pain will cease after reading this, but perhaps, just perhaps, it will help just a tiny bit to know that the whole world knows exactly just the pain that we feel. Maybe it’s one of the reasons why everyone dies and not just certain people—so that we can come together and comfort each other when dealing with one of the most difficult things in this world.
