Skip to main content

Death

When you feel death come towards you, fast, really really fast, what do you do? Do you shut down? Do you give up and wait hopelessly?

Or do you start living with a new found urgency, packing everything you can into the last few days, hours minutes? And if you do, what do you fill them with? With last minute wishes? With apologies, last words, goodbyes? With travel, with books, with movies? With new things, with old things?

If someone told you, you were going to die, would you change how you lived your life? Would you have loved more, lived more? Would you have taken more vacations, danced more? Would you write that book, with all its truth? Would you have called the people that disappeared? Would you have done something different?

Comments

  1. Anonymous7 July 2013 at 10:29

    Do you remember Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture?" That's the best rendition I have come across - that goes to the core of your question(s).

    The answer is so specific to who "you" in your question is. Watch "My Life" with Michael Keaton and Nicole Kidman, and you get the picture. If the "you" is ME specifically... I'd be facing the BIGGEST CONFLICT of my life in my mind.

    Anonymous-no-Longer

    ReplyDelete
  2. Zoya Brar7 July 2013 at 10:42

    What would be the conflict

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous7 July 2013 at 11:07

    Conflict resolved... it took one simple conversation. I know what I will do: take the mask of anonymity COMPLETELY off.

    (not completely) Anonymous-no-Longer

    ReplyDelete
  4. Zoya Brar7 July 2013 at 11:17

    I am not sure I understand at all

    ReplyDelete
  5. Anonymous7 July 2013 at 19:25

    And you think YOUR blogs are understandable? Look who is talking ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  6. Sunita7 October 2013 at 01:41

    not so bad Zoya - just look at the obituaries a bit more carefully and have a fair idea of what mine 'should' look like! -;)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Could I have imagined you?

Every year, I think about you. Not too many times, but consistently, a few times. And each time I am not sure how I should feel. There is a vague sense of loss, a subtle tinge of abandonment, a painful realisation of independence. But mostly, there is just a numb nothingness.   Who were you? I am not even sure I remember your face. Your smile, yes. Your eyes, too. But in pieces, in context. I can't imagine your reaction in a new situation. I can't see you as you may have become. I can only see the frozen moments that I have embalmed in my head.   I wonder if you feel the need to see me. If you imagine what it may feel like to talk to me now. If you wish you had known me all this time. If I am even a real person to you. If you have convinced yourself that I don't exist.   Perhaps it isn't as simple as moving on, as erasing, as avoiding. Maybe it's an intense removal, a complete denial. I don't hate you. I don't love you. It's an absence of anything ta...
25 comments
Read more

Like I always do

I am going to write you a letter describing everything I can't say. I am going to frankly pen down every emotion. The letter is going to talk about all that we have been through and everything I wish I had said to you back then. Its also going to describe all that I feel for you. For once, I will be honest and clear, without metaphor or abstraction. For once, I will tell it like it is. It will explain to you just how much I care about you and just how much everything you say and do means to me. And then I am going to seal the letter and bury it in my cupboard. 
17 comments
Read more

Memories of you....

There is a strange sort of nostalgia that pulls me towards you again and again. Each time I say goodbye and think I have forgotten, memories come reminding.  Shards of yesterday A million dreams  Scattered and nameless  I always wonder if I made a mistake with you. And the little space of could-be leaves me annoyed and just a little unsure.  And as always I write about it and leave it like I see it, as a lingering-passing thought. Perhaps tomorrow I will remember a little lesser. Perhaps tomorrow I will finally let go.
11 comments
Read more