On death and dying…the right attitude, translated…
As we age, we'd become, more and more sensitive, toward the subjects of illness, and death, is it us, facing the inevitable? Or, out of, that fear?
That day I'd gone to get some food at the Second Market, on the square, there was an exhibition of the black-and-white photographs, of them, may children were, looking focused onto the makeshift stage of the puppet shows, that's, caught my attention a long, long time. The date was 1950, and, I'd, imagined those children in the audience, all, barefoot, with plain clothes, if they're still all, alive, they would be, seventies and eighties to date. And, in an instant, a feel came to me: ahhh! That was a world, where I wasn't in existence, yet—we only have a couple of decades of life to live, it's, only a small glimpse, inside that river of, time, before and after, are the darkness that extended, it truly, is a, miracle, this sort of an, existence.
With entering into midlife, the illness of age hounded over me, it'd, made me, quite, unsettled, the less I can hear, the less things are seen, the more I wanted to hear lucidly, to see, clearly, to taste, to savor, everything I'm encountering in this, world. Sometimes, I see the elderly, in the wheelchairs, in the park, getting some sun, I'd thought, when they gazed up to the skies, enjoyed the seasonal changes, are they, nostalgic over the life they already, had?
what will happen to all of us, EVENTUALLY!!! Photo from online
Or maybe when we get to an older age, we see another view of life, to a, brand new, level of, things? Maybe it was about, fifty years, ago, when I was still, a young child who didn't know too much, so many times, I'd slept with my grandmother in the same room, saw her take out a carefully packed bag, as she'd, opened up the satchel, she'd looked upon those, folded neatly clothes, with such, care, like she was, looking on some cherished, treasures. And as I got older, I'd come to know, that those were, the clothes she'd prepared for her self to wear when she, dies. I didn't know what my grandmother was, feeling in the moment, but maybe, I believe, that she'd accepted that death is, a part of, her, life then, and just, used that, ordinary state of mind, to treat everything. Otherwise, how was she able to, be so, comfortable, setting her own, final, affairs?
The elegant means to which the elderly manage their final affairs always impressed me. Could it be, that in my grandmother's mind too, she held some longing for that, "realm", imagined the coming of "that day, that she will, dress up pretty, and leave? Don't know if my grandmother, who's, in heaven right this moment, is wearing the clothes she'd, selected for her own, self, if she's, happy?
We will eventually, become, ashes and, dust, this is our, fate. When the body slowly deteriorates, our mind, drifted, away, we'd felt, that we'd had a, fulfilled, life, the end of life may in turn be, a blessing. Knowing it, learning to accept it as normal, with a little humor too, to interpret the finality of life, that may be, the most, fitting attitude.
And so, this is, the inevitable, because NOBODY gets to live, forever, we all, will, DIE some day, and, it's best, that we start, accepting this as the inevitable, and, just let go of our fears of what comes after (nothing!), and, that way, when our times come, we will, leave this world behind, peacefully, not fearing death, because we'd, already had a, fulfilled, life all the way, up to the, point.
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