I have been away for a long time and I am finally back. I hope to write to you often Void, and hopefully I can keep that promise. Okay, so now let’s get to the part where I talk about things. I did not really want to come back with a dark tale and thoughts but it is what it is.
I will be honest…I do not know how to start or where to start (sigh). Yesterday I received grave news from my parents. And the way I received it will always be engraved in my mind.
After a weird phone call from my sister, I decided to call my father. When he finally picked up the phone, he said, “You need to be really strong. I have very tragic news. Your oldest cousin is no longer with us, and your uncle is in critical condition.”
I did not know how to react. My mind couldn’t even process it. I actually thought my father was joking.
But, I could hear the background noises in the phone call which made me realize that he was in the hospital. I could hear people crying, whispering, and then it finally hit me.
The person who had spent half of my childhood with me was no longer alive. No longer breathing, talking, smiling. She is gone.
And, the person who taught me how to ride a motorcycle, taught me how to do flips, who showed me how to run away from wild rhinos, who laughed at me when I was being being chased by a cow, who taught me how to make swings, who climbed a tree for me…is in critical condition.
And, their kids. AHHHHHHH THEIR KIDS.
That’s what hurts me the most, and that is when I started crying, sobbing.
Void, life is an illusion. Human life is an illusion. One day you are laughing, having fun, just living, and the next moment, you are gone from this world.
To our perceived reality, only your memory exists.
I know people die. The only thing we are certain about is death. But there is something about a young person passing away that makes you question everything.
You know what I figured out after all the thinking I did?
Human life is a cup of hot chocolate.
When it is made, there is a whole process the maker has to go through. And after the whipped cream has been sprayed and chocolate syrup drizzled on top, it shines with delicious potential. When a hot chocolate is born, it looks just like a human being–full of unfulfilled potential. Then a lucky person gets to drink it. And, when it is being drunk, the hot chocolate exists in this paradoxical moment: it is fulfilling its purpose (someone is drinking it), but it is also slowly disappearing (it decreases with each sip). So the hot chocolate is living and dying at the same time. And then, when the hot chocolate is gone, it experiences death. All that remains is the sweet aftertaste of what it was.
Void, this is what happens when I try to get over my selfishness about human life…I compare it to food.
You know what? I am very angry with myself. I have heard about other people, young people dying because of accidents, and I couldn’t shed a tear for them. All I could do was pray to the Universe. However, when someone in my own family dies because of an accident, I tear up. But I only tear up if I am talking to someone who is more affected from their death.
When I am sitting by myself, contemplating life like one does, I do not feel an intense sense of loneliness. It may be because I am thousands of miles away, and the news hasn’t hit me yet, but still.
Who am I lying to, of course it has hit me. But everyone’s family has gone through this tragedy. At a time like this, I think of the story that I read when I was young.
A woman who had lost her son came to Gautam Buddha and said, “I am suffering through so much pain, my son has passed away in my arms. I heard you could do miracles, can you help me?”
Gautam Buddha smiled and said, “Go to the village nearby and find a family that has not lost a family member and get rice grains from them. And then maybe I can help.”
So, the woman went to the village and she asked every house, and every single family was mourning or had mourned for a loved one.
So, this story gives grieving some perspective. At least to me. If I did not grieve for all human life, how can I grieve for my family member? Can I expect others to be sad? No. Of course not.
Also, if I become sad at my family member’s death, I feel like I am not appreciating the moments they were alive. All the happy moments. Funny moments.
I remember one that still cracks me up:
When my cousin was in England, I remember I had asked her to send me something that reminded her of me, and of course, she had sent me Justin Bieber’s Biography. Because, I am exactly like JB. (I am kidding of course, I do not know what JB is like.)
She passed away, but she still left a part of herself in her kids. And, after the full extent of tragedy had sunken in and I had juxtaposed human life with hot chocolate, I decided that I will pass on the same Justin Bieber biography to her older son when he turns fifteen. Why? Because it is funny.
I may seem terrible to my family members’ eyes, but I can’t help it. I find humor in any situation (I told you I have a cheeky side).
And I am sure that she probably wanted to see her kids grow, her sister married. But she is gone. She is physically gone. But. BUT, she is spiritually present, and instead of crying and mourning around (because I already did that), I want to celebrate her life.
When I am capable, I will help her kids. Because they are my brothers, and they are her.
And You know what Void, every year on January 26, I will try my best to give out hot chocolate to an orphanage.
Why? Because it will be cold that month and hot chocolate is delicious.
I will talk to you soon. Thank you so much for listening.
My thoughts are with you, Void.