The end day
I always wonder if everyone that has known us will miss us once we are gone. I wonder if those that claim to love us will really miss us.
I am inextricably interwoven with my family and that is what I call home with ebullience intrinsically. I seat down and think to my self if those that are gone really think of us to have loved them as much. What purpose does it serve not being around any more? The void inside, if those that are gone are the only ones who could solace our souls are really the only ones that could do it better than any living person. What now? What happens next? If we call upon them they won’t here us. It’s impossible. Will we see each other again? On judgement day? How is it going to be? I don’t wanna be hugged on the sad notary ceremony. To be solaced but strangers. I don’t need that.
The have struggled for us throughout our childhood. Family calls and text messages are coming in day and night, seconds after seconds, minutes after minutes, and hour after hour.
Are things going to be the same again and is that statement supposed to mean something? For how long and how many times does one need to grieve and cause so much pain upon others? Life is really short, paradoxically it’s longer than we think it is. Life goes on while they are gone.
Death is waiting for us in the kitchen at any given moment while getting a glass of milk. Do we ever notice that is is our end day ever? Absolutely not. Are there any given signals or indicators that the time is up for us to prepare our selves before we leave this planet? Absolutely not. How do we live daily with no regression now that they are gone? Have they gone quietly and peacefully? Life is mysterious. Can we by all means try to live in the present peacefully and quietly? Is it that hard to live a peaceful life?
Learn to live in the present and forget the rest. Live exuberantly. With no regression. Life is beautiful and don’t dare mess that up and value your time and your self because no one will ever do. No one cares about you.
As Anais Nin quotes:
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Sending my love to all those that are gone.