Random Thoughts on Dying

When asked to write about a manner of dying, I felt a sudden surge of tremor in my nerves. It felt weird; as if I were about to speak of something cursed and prohibited. After all, death was never an easy fact of life. Although innately partnered with it, I can’t help but stay aloof from the subject for it only revives unwarranted memories of loss of loved ones, the mourning hidden behind bushes of joyful days, and the pain imprinted on the very core of my being. Experiences have taught me this.
I wonder though what happened to my once valiant attitude towards death. I recall being among the special two out of forty-four students in my elementary class who eagerly raised their hands to the question, “Who among you can say you are ready to die today?” The child that I was, naive of pain and free from attachments, was blithely open to accepting death as the natural way to transcend to be with Him, as simple as that.
Going down the memory lane, I get flashbacks of this eerie suicidal plot I playfully invented as a ten-year-old kid. The plan, demonstrated in a comic strip in detail, was to jump off from a ten-storey high building. Mama was irked at the very sight of this and the rest is history. The nitty-gritty points were thrown all together with the crumpled intermediate pad paper that housed my silly plot.
I was neither depressed nor pressured with the intensity of what may have been family problems (if there were) — my parents have always been heroic enough to spare their kids from dilemmas adults face. They always granted us the freedom to enjoy life as all good, all great, and all play on a sun-shiny day! The reason for my harebrained story was triggered not because of any emotional imbalance; I believe it was merely because of my love for stories, not listening, reading, nor watching, but imagining. I was a strange kid in love with exploring the fictional world, creating adventures that suited my whims all with my eyes shut tight. Darkness fueled the processing of strange stories only I can witness (unless I put them in writing on unusual circumstances). I was so fond of letting my imagination run wild and apparently, death was no stranger to me.
In fact, death is no stranger to me. I face it day in and day out and though I fear it more the more I hear of it, that does not stop my imagination from taking interest in the subject even as a growing teenager.
As a result of media consumption culture, after reading books like Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom and A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks, I felt a quaint tinge of affiliation with leukemia. I felt it in my veins that I will die in this manner. “It’s so apt!” I thought flushed with excitement instead of fear. It’s a natural way of dying plus, with the kind of family I have – incredibly loving and supportive – I sure am to be given utmost attention in my death bed. Besides, I can be just like Morrie who probably touched more lives in his last days alive. I’ll die a hero!
This strange inclination towards leukemia, however, faded away in time and my latest preferred manner of dying replaced it: a car accident. Although it sounds morbid and gory, the intention is in complete good faith. It’s probably quite obvious by this time how our family has been successful in establishing a deep bond of love. Consequentially, even the thought of detachment from another already hurts.
Every car owned holds a distinguished meaning since significant time has been spent bonding in and through these cars. That’s where everything is shared – our love for music and crazy singing and dancing, honest and outright critiques of the media and the government, loyalty for Jawo and Ginebra in their golden era, those ridiculous jokes and gestures, and deepest and darkest secrets. All four of us cramped in a compact car always make the best out of an average day. My family has become the core of my being; my life and soul. If anything happens to one of them, I’ll die; and if anything happens to me, they’ll die. Therefore, I thought, to avoid such a grief-stricken circumstance, the most logical way to pass away is to meet a car accident where all four of us die at once. In that case, no one will be left to grieve for the loss of loved ones; no one will carry the burden of mourning and pain. We’ll all die happy and together.
But of course, c’es la vie. Life comes and goes. Having said all that, I still decide to put my faith in Him. After all, He is the Giver of life; He knows when and how death shall be sent…