When the dust bites
Yesterday morning, a batchmate of mine from college passed away.
Her name was Donna, and we were not what you would call great friends, but at one point, we were Philo groupmates and we've worked together in other projects as well. After college, there was zero contact whatsoever, except occasional sightings in malls or events, followed by the expected nod and smile of recognition.
And then, all of a sudden, all is gone.
Why her death (and illness) makes such an impact to me today is a mystery. I spent a huge amount of time the other day going through her Friendster page and looking at her pictures. I recalled her vibrant nature, her easygoing and friendly self and the extent of her intelligence. I said a short prayer then, asking for a miracle of sorts, so that she may resume her seemingly happy life with her family and loved ones.
But it was not to be so.
Some of Donna's friends are my close friends as well, and seeing their loss is as painful to me as if it were my loss as well. Why did God choose to take her, in particular, when she seemed to have had such a bright and promising future ahead of her? Why did he take away someone who was loved by many, and therefore grieved by many who up to this day cannot fathom the extent of their loss?
How ironic, that the few classes I had with Donna were classes on the Philosophy of Man, where we were taught that essentially, man was a soul, and that even as the body dies, the soul lives on. Donna was her soul. She did not die when seizures brought about by the sudden mass in her head killed any chances of brain survival. In many ways, perhaps her soul was liberated even at that moment, and will continue to live on until memories of the living Donna fade away into a myth.
There are of course, lessons to be learned. That life is, and always will be unpredictably futile, for we will never know if this moment is our last, or our loved one's last. We will never know if the last kiss we gave our parents or boyfriends/girlfriends would have been the last. Lesson number one: Live each day as if it were your last. The cliche is terribly present in that statement but it is also, terribly REAL. Lesson number two: Forgive and make peace. Say no to unfinished arguments, or sleeping with guilt ridden minds. Say no to the temptations of pride and selfishness that have been primary causes of war, devastation and loss.
The last lesson is the simple act of saying hello to people you come across, no matter how near or far they are. I remember the last time I saw Donna from a distance, a couple of months ago, in a mall. I remember exactly what she was wearing (a Cole Vintage dress and bag made by a common friend) and was contemplating whether I should go up and say hello. But before I made up my mind, she was gone. And I never got to say my last hello.
I am haunted, not by what has passed on, but by what is left in store. I feel unsettled and sorrowful, but perhaps, this is a good thing.
Perhaps this is what I need to truly be able to be freed from the bondage of these fleeting moments we call life.
Her name was Donna, and we were not what you would call great friends, but at one point, we were Philo groupmates and we've worked together in other projects as well. After college, there was zero contact whatsoever, except occasional sightings in malls or events, followed by the expected nod and smile of recognition.
And then, all of a sudden, all is gone.
Why her death (and illness) makes such an impact to me today is a mystery. I spent a huge amount of time the other day going through her Friendster page and looking at her pictures. I recalled her vibrant nature, her easygoing and friendly self and the extent of her intelligence. I said a short prayer then, asking for a miracle of sorts, so that she may resume her seemingly happy life with her family and loved ones.
But it was not to be so.
Some of Donna's friends are my close friends as well, and seeing their loss is as painful to me as if it were my loss as well. Why did God choose to take her, in particular, when she seemed to have had such a bright and promising future ahead of her? Why did he take away someone who was loved by many, and therefore grieved by many who up to this day cannot fathom the extent of their loss?
How ironic, that the few classes I had with Donna were classes on the Philosophy of Man, where we were taught that essentially, man was a soul, and that even as the body dies, the soul lives on. Donna was her soul. She did not die when seizures brought about by the sudden mass in her head killed any chances of brain survival. In many ways, perhaps her soul was liberated even at that moment, and will continue to live on until memories of the living Donna fade away into a myth.
There are of course, lessons to be learned. That life is, and always will be unpredictably futile, for we will never know if this moment is our last, or our loved one's last. We will never know if the last kiss we gave our parents or boyfriends/girlfriends would have been the last. Lesson number one: Live each day as if it were your last. The cliche is terribly present in that statement but it is also, terribly REAL. Lesson number two: Forgive and make peace. Say no to unfinished arguments, or sleeping with guilt ridden minds. Say no to the temptations of pride and selfishness that have been primary causes of war, devastation and loss.
The last lesson is the simple act of saying hello to people you come across, no matter how near or far they are. I remember the last time I saw Donna from a distance, a couple of months ago, in a mall. I remember exactly what she was wearing (a Cole Vintage dress and bag made by a common friend) and was contemplating whether I should go up and say hello. But before I made up my mind, she was gone. And I never got to say my last hello.
I am haunted, not by what has passed on, but by what is left in store. I feel unsettled and sorrowful, but perhaps, this is a good thing.
Perhaps this is what I need to truly be able to be freed from the bondage of these fleeting moments we call life.
posted by kath | 8:53 AM
3 Comments:
Kath, everything happens for a reason. Good thing you realized what you did.. :)
I'm here if you need me, ok? :)
Kind of makes you wonder which was more real. The everyday life of yours or the realization that you felt from this event. Which one is it? Two thing's for sure, however, is that we will all head toward 1.) this realization that you felt and 2.) we will have our own event of this kind in time. Have you thought about how you will respond to these two? If so, do you think your response is the right way to respond or is there a better way? If there is a better way, aim for that! ;)
In addition to what i just said earlier, I realized that in time, when I am long gone, my works and my words perhaps will be what's left of me in this world. More than my "resting" (or burnt) body. In fact, my words will tell the others WHO I am. We learn more about a dead man for who he is from reading his works than from visiting his grave. Come to think of it, our words not only can tell more about us than our body can, but it can also last much longer than our body can ever last. Goes to show, that there's more eternity in words than in our short life.
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