When I was a kid, when my father came home drunk one morning, I took my mom’s phone and, for no reason, opened the camera app and talked to the heavens. I wished for my father to stop his poor behavior for it already gave me pain and sadness (not to mention how my mother felt about him). After hitting the button for the phone to stop recording, I watched the video and saw a reflection of a white, skeletal figure that appeared in front of the mirror that I shot. When I asked my mother to watch, she told me that it was probably my great grandfather.
After so many years, during the pandemic, I had a dream about my grandfather’s sister holding one of the family’s dogs at the terrace on the second floor of our house. I couldn’t see much of her face for I focused on our pet shih tzu. Our own, Theo, started puking. Then, I saw my grandaunt looking a bit grim. A couple of weeks after, the dog died due to liver problems. Months forward, my relative joined him after suffering from depression and a heart attack.
When the world slowly started having freedom, our original cat got hit by a vehicle. After that, our guard dog, who was with us for more than fourteen years, fell from the stairs – I saw him froze and die with my own eyes. Every now and then, a few of the animals that our family rescue die due to a lot of reasons. Fireworks, vehicles, sickness. The works.
It would seem a bit far-fetched to say that I have something to do with it for the deaths started exactly at a time I started my healing journey and awakening. Every time that it feels like someone or something is watching me and sending my family negative energies, an animal dies. I know and understand the mythos and the spirituality, that animals who came to our lives serve as seers and protectors against evil; but, to experience and witness such death and suffering creates a void inside my heart. Death is a natural thing to occur; and, as someone who subconsciously practices his reaction to it, I feel a tremendous amount of hurt.
I Think I Should’ve Died a Long Time Ago
My mother said that I was never meant to live. During my birth, the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck so tightly. According to her doctor, a seconds more and it would’ve been a still birth. I was considered a miracle by a family who had nothing.
When I was near seven, I went outside with my mom to go the school where my brother was studying. She was supposed to talk to his teacher about his grades; and since, there was no one else to be with me at home, she tagged me along. When we were done with the errand, we went outside. For some reason, I was in the middle of a busy traffic and I got hit by a vehicle. I can’t remember what kind that hit me; but, all I know is that I got flung a couple of meters away. Surprisingly, the only injury I had were a few scrapes on my right arm and elbow. We went home for we didn’t have enough money to even get myself checked. A few hours passed and I was lying on our makeshift bed, with a fever, talking to my mom about my aspirations for the family – as if as I was about to die with nothing accomplished.
When I was ten, I had a fever that lasted for weeks. It turned out that I had dengue. It’s a good thing that I was immediately carried by my father to the hospital to get checked out. We had to borrow money from our great aunt, just in case I needed to be admitted; but, thank God, I didn’t.
During the pandemic, when I just got home from another province for studying, the entire family had an unexpected flu – that turned out to be COVID-19. Based on the news and the characteristics of the symptoms, we had the Delta variant. We spent weeks just to get well and we even reached the point of almost getting admitted. I don’t really remember the details of what happened but we’re all still alive.
It feels weird just writing down the different instances I encountered; or, almost encountered Death. It feels like I was meant to go down a long time ago and I kept on pushing forward – as if as unknown force was saving me. If I should be alive, then it means that I have something to do in this world. No, this is not some messianic shit. I just recognize the idea that there must be a purpose why I never left and why I experienced those scenarios. That I must have a purpose that I need to fulfill for the universe to be satisfied. Should I be humbled and grateful? Of course. Not everyone has the chance to be alive and to survive the things that I’ve experienced since then. I may experience a lot of pain and suffering as I breathe; but, I have the opportunity to feel and witness love, happiness, and peace.
From experiencing those near-death experiences, I never tried to flirt with death. I always tried to keep it safe. Never did stunts that seem fun to a lot of men. Never drank to the point of alcoholism. I even try as much as to get enough vitamins and minerals that I need for the day. It may never seem enough and I still feel like I’m living on the edge. Thankfully, I never had those visions of me greeting Them as an old friend. I never tempted nor taunted fate because I know that once they allow things to happen, I will no longer be on this Earth.
Tea Time with the Reaper
My relationship with the concept is shaped by the paradox of fear and letting go. When I’m alone, sometimes, I think of how will I react and act upon the death of a relative. Sometimes, I imagine different scenarios of my own passing – some peaceful, others horrifying. And, it’s difficult. Even the thought of leaving or other people leaving me forever tempts me to go to a downward spiral – to a reality where I’m not connected to other people so it won’t be difficult for me when they’re gone. But, that itself is purely impossible and quite immature. To pull me back to my senses, I think about what will people might feel when I’m gone to a point of no return. I recognize the normalcy and the inevitability of the concept and that there must be something worth discovering after the fact that one is still living despite others being the opposite.
I, therefore, treat death like an equal. When someone or something that I hold dear dies or goes away forever, I always think of the silver lining. “At least, now she’s safe from other people.” “At least, he won’t be alone now.” “A good thing is that he won’t feel pain anymore.” Knowing that they’ll be significantly better of in another dimension, I celebrate their own journey that ended – either thinking that life here on Earth is all but a rehearsal for the real play; or, that this is just a small part of their own adventure. With that I remember Gandalf’s own understanding that it is not the end; and, rather another path that we all should undergo.
It’s not weird for me to personify Death. For some, they may appear as a judge for all of the things that they’ve done in and to the world. They may appear as a caretaker for when you grow old. They may present themselves as a terrifying force of nature that we, humans, can’t understand. Or, even a childlike presence that wants for you to start playing. With this, I treat death like a wise old friend that is waiting for me to arrive after a long period of longing.
It is not Death themselves that I find hurtful or terrifying. To me, They’ll always be gentle – as if as I’m a kid who’s just learning to take his first steps. They’ll help me understand the catharsis of all of my successes and mistakes. They’ll guide me to the next door that I shall take in order to be part of the universe again or to make it to my next phase of living. They’ll allow me to make a decision as They have been my partner in my entire human experience.
I never had a proper conversation with Them. I never even heard of Them. But, I can always feel Their presence. It varies at times. When I lose someone or something, I can feel Their comforting hands. When I’m near or in danger, I can sense Their reprimanding nature. When someone treats me wrongly, I can see Their towering shadow as if as They are ready to take back what’s mine and exact revenge.
If I have the chance to talk with Them, I would rather not ask Them about the secrets of the universe, nor questions about my future and the past of my ancestors. I would not ask Them about what ifs as if as I can alter the endings of my life or other people’s. I would simply ask how They are considering that They’ve been here for the same time as Life. I would reel Them in to the beauty of my life that is brought upon such complexities.
I imagine that when I die, we’ll meet as if as we never left each other – ready to spill a year’s worth of gossip from all dimensions known to man. We will process everything that happened to me while eating different pastries that I love, like brazo de mercedes. We’ll play movies that I will not be able to watch in this lifetime. We’ll listen to music from different generations as if I’m back in my own home – cleaning every crevice on a quiet Sunday morning.
This personification helps me with grappling the tactile quality of unknown forces. It helps me calm myself whenever I’m being plagued with anxiety – making me realize that there is nothing to fear. It makes me understand that life is worth living and that I should start acting like it is. That regrets and guilt can only make the experience of being here a lot more dragging and exhausting.
However, at the same time, it’s the tactile quality that triggers my humanity to make me feel sorrow.
A Tour Guide To The Underworld
When I die, I would prefer if I’ll be able to meet every animal that our family lost. To check on them. To know what they’ve been doing since passing the bridge. I would like to meet my relatives and my ancestors and uncover how they’ve been guiding and covering my behind for all the years that I will have lived. I want them to sit down and have a meal with me as if as we’re still on Earth.
My humanity makes me feel hurt because it makes me ponder about the question: what if? If I bought my cats a cage, will they have not wandered around and got themselves killed? If I pushed even further and convinced everyone for my guard dog to not be one, will it have made their old age more comfortable? What if I established more rapport with my relatives: will things have changed? Death, the concept, makes me wonder if what I’m doing is not enough for the people, animals, and things that I love. And, if I’m not doing enough, then I will feel lost.
This is ironic for someone who guides the souls of the dead in their sleep. If the guide is lost, then what light can it bring to those who dwell in the darkness? What comfort shall it give to to those who passed and those who remained when they can’t even comfort themselves? What can it satisfy when satisfaction seems to be out of touch and out of reach?
Regret makes death end with a dot. Even though it is born out of love and responsibility, realizing how much I care and love adds up to the weight of its inevitability. The ability to look ahead and behind makes me feel like I could have done and been more to all of them. I see this as a bridge that I pass every now and then – a simple one that is getting more and more difficult to step on; however, I still must.
Maybe it should teach me to be more compassionate to myself and other people; and, rather, not numb. I must learn that we are allowed to be vulnerable without regret and that we can hope for the better. Maybe this is where my strength lies: to show that even though we experience near-death experiences and we witness the death of those we love, we should not falter and lose hope. That we should remain steadfast and committed to our will to live.
The weight of the bridge can be immense. But I should be able to realize that this immense pressure comes from how deeply I love; and, such can be alleviated by recognizing the fact that things happen for a reason and that we must all follow the natural order; and, that to feel sorrow and hurt is as synonymous as to feeling at peace.
Death can be synonymous to a new beginning.
Death As A Rebirth
A final anecdote to share. I remember my mom telling stories about this certain relative of ours. Like me, he was a part of the LGBTQ+ community. He was so talented and skilled. He was considered as the jack and master of all trades related to the arts. It was always joked about that since his death, his skills and talents were spread amongst the younger generations. Fortunately, and this is the ego speaking, I got the identity of not belonging to binaries and the multiple talents that he had. Funny enough that in order to balance everything into consideration, it was only ideal and necessary for me to be the one to have the big universal job. He basically was reborn into the young; and, this gives me hope and comfort.
When I hear the word, “death”, I sometimes think of the tarot card. For context, it doesn’t always mean that somebody is going to die. It might mean that one’s old self will pass into legend, and a phoenix will rise. It might indicate a new beginning or a blank slate to the one being read.
Upon further inspection of the grander scale of things, it gives me warmth that I can act as this version of mortality. For those that I love who passed away, I hope that I’ll be able to pass on your legacies and your truth by guiding you to the light. For life that ended, means life reborn. If I’m to be a version of the Grim Reaper or an aspect of such constitution, then, I wish that I’ll be able to recognize my own new beginnings, and to partake into others’. If death means life, then all I have to do is to be present.
This is for those who moved on and those who remained.
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