Morbid

Death. Death is perhaps the first and the ultimate mystery the human race is yet to unravel. Hence the fascination, since the dawn of civilisation till today. Modern science has solved the problem of birth; yet nothing can stop the inevitability of death. Everything die. It’s a simple truth. Yet, we as a race, an animal species, have failed to come to term with it. Death continues to scare us., Death is the forth Horseman of the Apocalypse, a hooded figure who caries a scythe. He’s the Grim Reaper.

I have a camaraderie with death. I don’t worry about my own death. But really, really worry about the death of other people. More than that, I really, really don’t know how to react in the face of death.

Since I deal with news, death is an every day affair, every day we carry news of someone or other dying, by various means, from suicide to road accidents, and so on. Yet, when it comes to the death of someone I know, I panic. I don’t know how to react.

How do you go to a person who has lost someone dear and tell him/her that it would be all right? Recently, one of my colleague’s husband died. The other people in the office went to visit her, to offer condolences. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Tears dishearten me. Tears unsettle me. Tears kill me.

Recently, one of my friends’ father died. I should have called him soon after. But I did not. A month of so later, he himself called. I was feeling terrible. But, he had recovered from the grief. Everyone does, sooner or later.

Now, sooner or later, it would be my turn, to mourn the death of my parents. I dread the day. But it would come one day. That’s the truth.

The first time I tried to kill myself was when I was in class six. I don’t remember the reason. But, I remember being profoundly sad. There was a sense of bleak hopelessness. But I could not do it. Everytime I think of killing myself, I remember my mother, how she would react, and I cannot do it. I cannot give her that grief. So I decided to wait till my parents are death. Then, I would be free, to end it all.

In one sense, I have not experienced death. The news always came to me second hand. I was somewhere else when my grandparents died. I haven’t seen death in close quarters.

And the person I loved most, R, I was informed about R’s death two months later. It took me more than a month to process the truth. Then I decided to wait for 20 years, for I knew, the person I loved, and who loved me, R, would be born again, somewhere, and after 20 years, would come of age. I would be 52, if I am still alive till then.

Death isn’t difficult, it’s life that is.