We have not been taught to cope with death. I’m not even sure if that can be taught. Over the years, confronting this fundamental principle of the universe, a day-to-day occurrence has left me with different lessons at different points in life.
I think my first conscious memory of death was when I was 8 years old. In retrospect, I had little to no clue of what was happening around. I stood there clueless, very fascinated by how still a dead person can be.
2 years later, when it showed up on our doors again, something I couldn’t articulate within me softened, then flared up, and broke at the exact moment I witnessed a very dear one tear up. As their eyes swelled with despair, so did mine. Unknowingly.
The first important lesson – It is only natural to mirror the state of mind of a loved one who walks with you. And then, for a while everything went silent. I thought this was a temporary episode until it happened again.
At 14, it struck me that the absence of an individual is not just about loss. It can be disastrous to the financial condition of a family, it can turn their lives upside down, and they can feel stranded in a deserted place, helpless and reluctant to even ask for help. The teenager in me was brimming with angst. Questions that needed answers right away but were never found. When the exciting phase of young adulthood began, a new dimension of death was revealed. Occasionally, people can be happy over someone’s death. But the big blow was the events that occurred during the Covid era.
It came to my understanding that you can still exist with a perpetual state of fear and anxiety, that life can be so uncertain, that the one who adapts to change quickly have better chances of survival, that prayers and miracles do come true, that you can be a person’s flesh and blood and still not perform their final rights, that no matter how much you try to control things, nothing is ever in your control.
That said, I think the most substantial takeaway from that period of time was that I thought I was fully familiarized with the concept of death. I’m 24. Last week, while all of us celebrated Ugadi in full swing, my brother-in-law had to come to terms with an unfortunate incident of his school friend passing away. Since all of us had each other’s company, my priority was to check on him rather than dwell on it or process it myself. Today, my friend and I visited this place to get some work done and somebody we closely knew and adored had lost their son. Both of these people happen to be very young. It was impossible for me to concentrate on work no matter how hard I tried.
The thing is you can never be familiarized with death. Not when it’s a surprise. Not even when you know it’s coming. It will shatter you. It will make you question every fucking thing. It will trick your mind into thinking how many things you could have done differently.
It is a tough subject. Maybe, maybe you can try and be familiarised with life. But again, aren’t these both the two sides of the same coin?
At this age, on an absolutely normal day, for a normal middle class person like me, it takes a lot of effort, honest work, to wake up hopeful with existential dread taking its toll. It is inconceivable to my brain the amount of strength a person dealing with loss has to possess to resurrect themselves and go about with the normalcy and mundanities of everyday life. Losing an adult is one thing. Losing a child is a different ball game altogether. Of course, you can never quantify which is a better death, grief over the death of someone young who passed without living a full life or the grief over the death of someone old who gave you memories but did not equip you to live a life without their presence. Is anyone ever too old or too young to die? All of this makes me feel miserable, powerless, and whatnot. If only there was a way to rip away all the sadness in the world.
But on the other hand, at 24, it has dawned upon me that you can and probably should try and do everything in your power to make your lives better, to try and live your best lives. What happens beyond that is a question me and you will spend the rest of our lives trying to find the answer to. The bitter truth is that it all comes down to it is what it is. Nevertheless, try.
And as cliched as it sounds, at the beginning, end or at some point in the day, practice gratitude.
For something, for anything, even if it’s something as simple as just existing, a colleague offering a bottle of water, or a friend calling you up for a minute, be grateful for the day, for life, but mostly, essentially for the people around you. Because at the end of the day, the people around you mean everything. We ride through this journey underestimating their presence, their essence, unaware that we need people at all times. We do not know what the journey holds for us or whether this journey will be long or short for you or a matter of fact even me. But just the mere existence of friends and family, having each other’s company, trying to make them happy, and finding solace in their presence, will make this journey bearable. We don’t even have to make it to the end of the tunnel, I think with some empathy and compassion we can find light even within one.
Actually, I don’t think.
I know.
Thanks for giving hope.