Death is one of my least favourite subjects to talk about. Ever. But I’m going to talk a little about this topic today.

First thing you should know about me is that I don’t handle deaths very well. Yes, I know it is inevitable. I am not an idiot. Deaths are imminent for everyone (unless you happen to know some secret magic that allows you to have immortality). I’m simply not one of those people who grief for a short while and then, move on. Depending on whose death’s in question, sometimes I take a while, or I never really did get over it at all.

I’ll tell you a little bit more about the deaths and me. I was 16 when my grandfather died. He was 67. During his final days, I was there to witness his sufferings. He could not even talk on his last day on earth. And I was unfortunately unable to see him breathe his last. While it was not my first encounter with human deaths, it was the first time I experienced a death of a dear one.

My paternal grandfather and grandmother brought me up when my parents went to work in another state when I was younger. Being the eldest grandchild in the family, I was spoiled silly by both of my grandparents. My grandfather, in particular, was very indulgent of me. In fact, I don’t ever remember being seriously reprimanded for anything I did throughout the years I’ve stayed with them. Whatever I wanted, my grandfather tried his best to give it to me. My family was not rich. But I had fun. And love.

So you can only imagine the pain and shock I got from my grandfather’s death. From the time I knew he was hospitalised until the day his body was cremated, I cried like there was no tomorrow. I was always a crybaby, but even so, I’ve never cried harder for anything or anyone else. I prayed fervently to god when my grandfather was hospitalised. Up until the day he died, I still prayed, for what ever little hope there might be to cure him of the illnesses that plagued him.

I can tell you when I became an atheist. Or rather, the day I stopped believing in a higher power’s existence. It was the day my grandfather died. I felt betrayed and hurt that despite all my prayers, grandfather did not once get any better. His conditions continued to deteriorate, his sufferings continued to escalate.

I do not need or want anyone to preach to me about god and religion. You have your beliefs, I have mine. Or rather, the lack of it. I am not an optimist, you see. I refuse to think that there might be a higher purpose of him dying and leaving us behind. I refuse. And so, I beg you not to tell me any of that bullshit that I am not willing to accept. I’d rather you think that I’m ignorant and stubborn.

My grandfather was a jolly old man, well-loved by everyone who knew him. I was very angry that he was taken away from me at such a time. I suppose the adolescence angst did not help much either.

Today while I was walking home, I saw a dead baby bird. It was small and completely bald. I only saw it for a couple of seconds, but it was enough for me to have difficulty controling my emotions and breathing. I do not know why deaths affect me so much, but they do. If I could, I wish I could unsee the dead bird. A dead bird, a dead frog, a dead cat, a dead dog or a dead rat, and I immediately transform into an emotional train wreck.

I cannot handle deaths. My grandparents are getting older by the day. To tell you the truth, I am scared to death. I lost my belief in god the first time around, I don’t know what else I would lose if it were to happen again.

6 thoughts on “Death

  1. Not that many people can handle death well. There are two types of people who handle death well, 1) the religious, and 2) the realists. The religious believe that death may not be the final end and the realists are more of like my friend who believes in science and the big bang theory. We are simply humans, crafted out of sheer luck. We live and we die, that is the final end. For everyone else in between, I think we all fear death. I have always feared death and sometimes I’ll be sitting there and be like “I wonder what it feels like to die” or “When I die, I cannot live these moments anymore” and it scares the shit out of me. I feel all panicky, heart begins to go crazy, stupid thoughts going through my head and then I have to slap myself out of it. I feel like I want to cry when I think of myself aging and simply “moving closer” to the other end.

    16 is already a pretty decent age to experience the first passing of a family members. I was only a little kid and my eldest uncle passed away, on my lunar birthday. Death often creates anger and depending on who the person is, the anger subsides over time. There is no death that is ‘forgotten’ and people never forget or “get over it” – the pain just lessens. I remember I hated the world when my dad died a few years ago. I had no idea who I was angry with. The world, the doctors, the nurses, cancer, his body? What/who was I angry at? There is never a ‘right’ time for death – however, there are ‘better’ times. For someone who passes away at 90 is a lot ‘better’ than someone who passes away at 40. My dad died a few years ago when he was 54 and people will often say, “So young?” as if we wanted him to die and to rub it in my face. Thanks for reminding me about how young it was you stupid people – like I don’t already know that! A friend of ours recently passed away, but she was well into her 70’s so the passing did not seem as tragic as someone who did not live a ‘whole’ lifetime.

    The reality is, everyone gets older by the day and not only that, death is not always accompanied by old age. Many factors in life can change a person’s fate in a mere second. I am scared of dying too and actually more so, scared of people who I care about dying. In some respects, I always hoped I would not have to see a parent die, but I did. When I was young, I always wanted my parents to out-live me, so I wouldn’t have to go through the pain. But Chinese people say, it is worse when white-haired-people have to send away black-haired-people… you know what I mean. So when I think about it that way, it would probably be more devastating for my parents to bury me than the other way around.

    I know what you mean by being scared of dying… at least that makes the two of us. Nevertheless, every passing moment is a blessing and care/love all those around you – because nothing will change the fact of life and death. However, what you can control is the memories you create from existing moments.

    Btw, I love it when you drop by my blog and comment ❤ ❤ !! Taankkiess.

  2. I was reading paragraph 6 and was already constructing sentences about “higher purpose of him dying and leaving [you] behind”, then came paragraph 7, lol.

    I don’t really cry much, I still remember during this leadership camp, there was this crying session where the camp facilitators would show sad clips and talk sad and play sad music (Islamic sad music), and somehow EVERY SINGLE GUY in the camp cried EXCEPT FOR ME. I didn’t even have that urge, that sniffing phase, not even that.

    Then later on, my grandmother was sick and everything, took her 8 bed-ridden-months before she was finally set free. At first, I never really cried, though I that urge to. And I was afraid that I lost my emotions after so many months. But when she left, I cried, like non-stop, till I cried myself to sleep on the way back home. After that, no more waterworks.

    Oh yeah, and since I was 7, during some church camp that I hated, I had this thought of my parents one day leaving me, and that thought came to me now and then, which would immediately make me wanna cry. But I lost that now ._.

  3. I belief everyone scared to death, but as u knw we are human and v hv to pass through life cycle.. dun think so much cherish what you have and treat people around you better.. (treat me better)

  4. 人生自古谁无死

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