The Death of a Friend

Today I attended the funeral of a young lady that I knew in primary school. When I heard the news about her passing I couldn’t believe it. Here was a twenty five year old girl, coming into her stride in her career and relationship, and just like that, she is gone.  It reminds me of how fragile life is, and how lucky we all are to be alive right now. At any moment the roulette wheel could stop on your name, and in the blink of an eye you cease to physically exist. And it can be from anything. Perhaps you slip in the shower. Perhaps someone loses concentration in their car for one second. Perhaps you have a stroke. All these things in one way or another are out of your control, and we are left to the mercy of chance. The fact that I am alive right now and typing this is incredible, because I have “dodged” that chance wheel from stopping on my name for twenty five years. I hope I can continue to do so.

This has been the second funeral that I have attended in my lifetime, and even though I did not truly know her in her adult life, it was no less difficult to get through. Seeing the tears of family members, friends, partners all in one place can be overwhelming, but I found myself being able to hold it together. I don’t think it has truly sunk in yet because I still cannot believe it. It was not until the speeches when I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and tears forming in my eyes. You come to realise all the nonsense we worry about in life means absolutely nothing when something like this happens. You come to realise that the things you take for granted, even your friends and family, are the most important things in this world at the end of the day. That fight you had about nothing, that opportunity at work you missed, that car you don’t have, that inheritance you did not receive. All these things are so insignificantly small in comparison to the relationships you build with people. I’m beginning to see it more clearly. I just wish it didn’t take the death of someone to realise it.

During the service many things were going through my mind. When her father spoke I tried to think what he must be feeling. To have lost his flesh and blood that he and his wife so proudly brought into the world and nurtured with love and care. I can only imagine as I listen to his speech that he wrote. He even apologised that he might not be able to elaborate on the points, and that he might only be able to stick to the speech. You could see he was hurting bad. You could feel it. To me he was doing so well. I don’t think that I would have been able to keep it together like he did. I think I would just shut down as I internally curse the sky even when I know my child would have me do otherwise. I have the utmost respect for her father. You could see he was proud and I bet she would’ve been proud too.

When her partner spoke, she spoke how she had lost the person who gave her a reason for waking up in the morning, and falling asleep at night. How she lost her best friend, and sunshine. How she lost the love of her life. How she lost the person that brought her the most happiness she had ever experienced in her entire life. I tried to feel how she must have felt while she wept as she gave her speech. To have someone you love with all your heart, who you spend every day and night with. Someone who truly knows you, and loves you back. Who makes you a better person, and helps pick you up when you are going through a dark patch. Who is everything to you. To wake up the next day, to find that they are no longer in that bed with you when you roll over. That they are no longer on the end of that telephone number. That they are no longer there for you to joke with, cry with, laugh with or have fun with. How must that feel? I started to lose it at the end. Her partner placed a flower petal on the coffin and then walked half way across the room. She then stopped and looked back on the coffin, knowing that would be the last time she would be physically near one of the most important people in her life. That is when her partner really lost it, and I lost it too.

When her brother spoke, he spoke of many of the things her partner did however it hit me harder when he said it. When he spoke of his big sister, I could not help but think of my little sister. I think I was able to better feel what he must have been as he spoke. I thought what I would be feeling, if it was me up there, talking about my sister in front of all these people. What would I be saying, or failing to say because I would be in such agony? I didn’t entertain the thought for very long, as the thought of losing my sister was enough stress on my heart. All I can say is I would not be doing too well.

Finally I tried to visualise what it would be like if I was the one in that coffin? What effect would my death have on the people who I have come into contact with? It’s a grim thing to think of but I couldn’t help it. If I died tomorrow, how much of a ripple effect would it have on the worlds of the people I have known? Of course it would be terrible thing, but I cannot help but think what I will be remembered for. I would like to think that when I leave this place that I have had a positive impact on the worlds that I was a part of. I would like to think if I helped the people that I knew, or even didn’t know, in at least one way that my life would not have been a wasted life. I know I am often hard on myself, always feeling disappointed with myself because I am not achieving the best that I think that I should be. But I think that if my life helped or inspired someone in some way then it was not all for nothing. I also hope that when I die, my death helps people to realise things that they did not once realise. I hope that their lives become better with these realisations and that they are able to live their lives to the fullest for me. I hope they realise the beauty in their lives just like I have through my friends’ passing. I hope that they come to realise that although I am not physically alive, I am still alive within them, guiding their future actions in some way. I hope they realise that I do not wish for them to be sad. I hope when my time comes and people are sitting at my funeral that they remember something stupid that I have done or said that made them laugh and in turn make them laugh at that moment. That would mean a lot to me.

Thank you Vicky, for making me appreciate my life and to realise its beauty.

I hope you rest in peace.

Love Sash

Immortality Butter or Mortality Butter?

I am given one out of two options. Two jars of magical peanut butter are in front of me. The label of one jar reads “Immortality” and the other “Mortality”. Easy choice, right? Immortality butter would allow me to live forever. Not one hundred years. Not one thousand years. Not one million years. Forever. I’m talking till the end of time forever. I would be able to see how we, as humans, evolve. How our bodies evolve. How our minds evolve.  How our technology evolves. How our planet evolves. How everything evolves. I would be able to experience everything that this conscious reality that we call life has to offer. How amazing does that sound? Incredible, right? I would be a fool not to consume the immortality butter. Why do I even have to think about this?

I pick up the jar of immortality butter and throw it in my basketball hoop bin.

Welcome to your new home immortality butter!

Devil on my shoulder: “WHAT THE FFFFFFFF……?”

I open the jar of mortality butter, my hand imitating a giant ice cream scoop and take a whopping handful. And by whopping handful  I mean I measure out a tablespoons worth because this stuff is calorie dense and I have to watch my figure.

I would choose mortality butter because I do not wish to live forever. Not because it might be the right thing to do morally or whatever, but because I just don’t wish to spend my entire life (which would be forever) just existing. If I was immortal I don’t feel I would be living. I would just be existing in time and space. Everything would be less beautiful because I wouldn’t have to fear that this moment might be my last. That is what makes life beautiful. It’s because I am so fragile, that makes life so precious to me. I appreciate my life more when I know it can end in the blink of an eye. So for the time that I have left I will try to live while I can, the best that I can.  If I lived forever, if I was immortal, my life would be less precious. Less special. I wouldn’t appreciate the beauty in it because I would be sure that I would experience a similar moment in the span of my immortality. I wouldn’t appreciate the little things that might seem trivial.

Like today, driving home in my furnace of a car, dripping so much sweat I was having a bit of difficulty turning my wheel without my hands slipping. I wind my window down, and lean over to wind down the passenger side window which would allow the most glorious draft of wind to flow through. Beautiful air slapping my face, weaving between the follicles of my hair while being accompanied by some catchy tunes that I will never admit to liking and singing out loud.

MORTALITY RULES!

Now I’m sure if I was immortal I would still feel all those great sensory stimulating things, but I wouldn’t appreciate it as much. Because the mortal me knows that I could be hit by a car and killed on my way home. The mortal me knows that I could be jumped and stabbed on one of my night runs. The mortal me knows that I could trip over badly and hit my head on a rock. The mortal me knows these things. The mortal me knows these risks. But it is these risks, no matter how big or small that make life that much more exciting. Even just typing this blog right now is so great, because this might very well be the last thing that I type because I may have a stroke in my sleep.

And what about the moments you share with people. Are these moments not precious knowing that they might be the last time you ever experience them? That might be the last time I have a drink and tell stories with my friends. That might be the last time I play a game with them and have a laugh. That might be the last time I hear that terrible joke, but like the joke anyway because it was so terrible. That might be the last time I help a friend move stuff to a new place. Or the last time I wish someone a good night. Or the last time I kiss or spoon someone. Or the last time I lift weights and eat peanut butter (perish the thought).

On top of life being less precious to me, I feel I would be very alone if I were immortal. Knowing that you will never die. Knowing that you are going to experience emotional pain forever. Knowing that you are going to live through the life and deaths of your friends, your family, your children, your children’s children, forever. I don’t think I could bare the constant pain of loss like that, knowing that I will outlive everyone I meet and have an emotional connection to.

So for me, mortality butter all the way baby.

I’d like to hear others thoughts on this topic. What jar would you pick, and why?

– Sash