Why me? Why not me?

Death can turn any fool into a philosopher.  The pain caused by loss can bring a person to a point of desperation, leaving him grappling at imaginary threads of, “if onlys” and “it doesn’t make any sense.”  After crossing the initial stage of disbelief, there is no choice left but to face the fact. 

After seeing the loss of many near and dear ones through various means: old age, chronic illness, accident, suicide, stroke and that mysterious “cardiac arrest” (even in a perfectly healthy heart), I can say from experience that every single time, death knocks the socks off your feet, causes the ground beneath you to crumble, turns your limbs into jelly and makes your face contort into shapes you never thought possible.

Why, Death, why? Even when I’m standing at the bedside of someone waiting for you, why does your arrival come as a surprise?  Why don’t you prepare us better so that we can cope with the aftermath of your doomed presence in our lives?  What joy do you get from wiping the smiles off our faces?  The laughter from our hearts? The twinkle in our eyes?  What pleasure do you get from breaking the foundation on which we stand?

Yet, here you are. Your existence cannot be denied.  You make sure of that.  I don’t like the way you shake things up, but I must admit there is a strange poetry to the melancholy of your deed. If there’s anything you’ve taught me, it’s that life without you is incomplete.  You wake me up.  You force me to be grateful and you make “living in the present,” choice-less.

For all this, I don’t hate you, but I don’t love you either.  I choose to accept you.  Thanks for being my greatest teacher.  Your tireless dedication to your work never fails to change my life.