death

What I Feel About Dying

When I think about dying, I’m always pulled back to that time when I was in a hospital waiting for my Uncle’s dialysis session to finish.

I was seated on a cold, battered hospital bench. And as it was a public hospital, I remember the lights are so much dimmer than it should be. Huddled around me were exhausted people, waiting on their relatives to get better. We only got the humid air going around, so many of them were holding fans or anything that may resemble it. Some of them laid slumped on the floor, trying to get a bit of sleep.

I remembered being so tired that day. Going around from the laboratories to seeking additional financial help from the hospital’s social welfare section. All I really wanted to do that moment was go home, wash all the dirt away and sleep like the dead.

And just as that thought popped, I saw this gurney pushed by two people. When they pass, I saw that on the gurney was a tiny body fully covered with white cloth. They’re going to the elevators. Straight to the hospital’s morgue.

Up until that time, I was convinced that I’m not afraid of dying. Death, after all is natural. As all people are born, all of them must die. But at that moment, I felt anger. And shame. Then guilt. And finally, I became afraid.

Dying made me feel anger

I was angry because it’s not fair.

That was a child. A dead child that cannot be older than ten years old. I looked back from when I was ten and that’s when I started to appreciate a lot of things – family, friends, school, teacher, even learning because finally, division’s making sense.

I was also ten when I realized that going over the school’s fence to cut class just so you can watch a betamax movie in your classmate’s house was pretty awesome. What I marked as an exciting start of my life was an end to that child on the gurney. It was so unfair.

I felt like a good farmer put a sapling in well-lit place. Watered it good. And waited for the perfect moment when the leaves are fresh and tender just so he can smash it with his foot. That’s how senseless it is. Or like how I wasn’t able to get that division is multiple subtraction, just like what my Maths teacher said when I was ten.

If this world is what Darwin made it up to be, are the whiners the stronger ones? Because most people get to do that while others are dying. It’s unfair how people complain about living while others didn’t even have the chance to live. Or kept fighting for it but didn’t win, didn’t survive.

Dying made me feel ashamed and guilty

Shame swiftly came after. How dare I complain that I’m still able to do all these? What am I doing wasting this life for something so trivial as whining. I can always get some rest and then have a go on the next thing that I’d like to do because I’m alive. But that kid right there on the gurney? Not anymore.

I can’t help but think, did the kid knows he’s about to die? Was he able to do all that he can do with the time he’s left with? It also made me ask myself, “Am I doing anything worthy with my life?” Because I know I’m guilty of wasting so much time.

In that moment, in that place, people are fighting to live. They’re undergoing daunting treatments. They’re taking their chance at life. And there I was, a pathetic, ingrateful vermin, wanting to sleep off my mine.

Dying made me fear mortality and embrace life

And then I feared mortality. I know everything will end, but how? When? I was seized by this strong yearning to live. To get on whatever I was putting off. I thought about all the things that I’d like to do, all the places I’d like to see, all the people that I long to meet… All these things that life can still offer and that I can still grab on to – I want to reach out to them, I want to live my life in full.

In my mind, I thought, I know how valuable life is. But it’s only then have I learned how to cherish it. That instance when the gurney passed shocked me, scarred me for the rest of my life. But it humbled me as well. It’s a valuable lesson that I learned that night. And maybe by writing this, I just want to pass it on.

As always thanks for dropping by!

Featured Image by Aron

Inset Photo by Gabby Orcutt

All the Bright Places: Thoughts and Reviews

It’s been awhile since I picked up a young adult work of fiction. I was expecting Jennifer Niven’s All the Bright Places to move along the same cheesy story lines. The ones that follows the plot of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, but boy still wins girl at the end.

But no.

It seems nobody wins at the end of this story. And sadly, it may be happening to someone you know right now.

I never expected the book to be about suicide – a topic that has become so prevalent this past years.

Growing up, I know the issue is real. As real as bullying or domestic violence or cancer. I think every one of us has some level of experience with the topics I mentioned. It may only be the names, places or situations that may be different.

The book is a bit too cruel. Imagine having to deal with deaths that took place within roughly a year of each other? How can you even begin to find the sense in learning to lean onto someone and then having that someone taken away forever?

But as painful as the story is, it also teaches you to hope, to reach out and to move on.

All the Bright Places to Hope For

Going someplace new and different doesn’t just change what’s outside. More importantly, it moves something within us. It allows our minds to open up to new perspectives, to increase our appreciation of what we have and long for the possibilities in the future. It develops our depth as a person and the relationship we have with the person whom we experience them with.

Just like how Violet’s and Finch’s project of wandering over Indiana allowed them to explore themselves, too.

All the Bright Places to Reach Out To

As with Dr. Seuss’ poems, we can’t always expect to win every time. There would be moments when we’ll fall and fail. When this happens, it’s so easy to fall in the trap of negative thinking, to feel like you’re lost and worthless. What the book never failed to show is that there are always, always people and groups who are ready to help you out. It may not be something you will immediately like. But know and remember that you’re not alone.

Sometimes, it can be disappointing that the people you expect help from are the same people turning you away. They may be in denial (like Finch’s family) or they may just be ignorant (like Roamer and his friends). But knowing this doesn’t make the pain any less or the confusion any clearer. I think the key is to never stop trying to reach out to anyone who you think may help you. There would always be other friends, other responsible adults, experts and organizations who’d be willing to hear you out.

There are several organizations that Niven listed in her book. Locally, here are some useful links and hotlines you may check out: Manila Lifeline Center and HOPELINE.

All the Bright Places to Move On To

Niven’s characters are about to graduate high school. Most of them have already submitted applications to different Universities in and out of Indiana. I like how Violet decided to finish the project she started with Finch. She may just be hoping for closure but I knew she was able to find more than that – peace and strength to move on. After all, she still has her own mountain to climb.

What I most like about the book is how Violet’s family is always ready to listen and at the end, all the tragedies have made them better and stronger.

Dealing with Death

Of course you never just get over with a loved one’s death. You just get used to it. And in between life and remembrance, we may find solace on the thoughts and memories they have shared with us. All those times we may never take back but may just give us the push to move on-wards with life.

You can get your own copy of Jennifer Niven’s All the Bright Places at National Bookstore or through Amazon.com.

Add to that Dr. Seuss’ Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

As always, thanks for dropping by!

Featured Photo

Lessons and Regrets Over a Dear Friend’s Passing

Regret brings a certain bitterness to your tongue. It’s a thought or a feeling you’d rather not have. But it always lingers. And as a social experiment proved, regrets usually come with the word “not“. And here be one my deepest regrets. One that gives me ultimate sadness every time I think about it.

REGRETS ABOUT A DEAR FRIEND’S PASSING

When I was 27, one of my friends died. Before that, I knew she suffers from a brain disease from childhood. Her symptoms just kept on getting worse into adulthood. When the pain has become so severe, she was admitted to a hospital, just 50 ft or so from where I work. But I’ve never even once gone to visit her. I get off work every 5 pm, and never in her week of being in the hospital have I shown myself.

And on a Thursday night, one of our mutual friends sent me a message, telling me that she’s passed away.

I never went to her wake or her funeral. She was buried in the same place as my grandparents. But never, never even once have I visited her grave. Looking back, I realized, I was ashamed. I was so ashamed I wasn’t there and I had the gall to call myself her friend. Ashamed that of all our friends, I was the one closest to where she was. Just 50 ft away and I never went to see her, not once. I was ashamed and thought I’m a terrible friend. And I used to say that friendship means a lot to me.

A month after she died, I dreamed of her. She told me, it’s all right. I can let go. She told me she was just saying goodbye. I remember telling her sorry, over and over. I woke up crying. Even in my dream, she’s continued to be the friend that she was – thoughtful, kind, gentle.

And I was just a mess, keeping to my reasons that none of my feelings will ever bring her back. But I realized my non-feeling wasn’t doing me good as well. Guilt, grief and pain consumed me. And I tell you that no amount of beer or any other alcohol would’ve numb the feeling.

And as for all the wounds I’ve had, this one is much deserved and I’m willing to let it fester. Most of our friends say it’s all right. And I would heal. I know that, but let me hurt a little more, a little ways every time I think about it, about her. It’s my shitty way of honoring our friendship, of our ties that I let loose.

WHAT DID I LEARN? SO MUCH AND SO LITTLE.

I could never say that I’ve learned from this since I still have trouble feeling for other people. I feel so awkward whenever somebody’s having a hard time. Or someone’s sharing their sad experience. I don’t know. I always have this moment of non-feeling, where I just wait for their emotion to pass so I can walk on. I’m still terrible. But I’m working on it.

Once, I tried to stay with a friend after she had a car accident. Sometimes I send power thoughts to friends who’re experiencing hard times.

I try not to be awkward all the time.

Finally, I tell friends how blessed I am to have them in my life whenever I could. I send them messages, I say it to them personally whenever I get the chance.

I try to be there for them whenever I can.

And I’m trying to be a better friend, the best way I can.