BY BORDI JAEN
IT IS DIFFICULT to write about death. There’s nothing that touches more heartstrings than death.
Events that have transpired over the past months have made me muse and ponder upon this topic. I do not think it necessary to enumerate because I might overlook a few so I leave it to the reader to remember.
Death is familiar to us all because he has manifested his omnipotent scythe to people we know and love. In death, there is grief in the aftermath. However, I give to the grieving reader this humble piece to ponder on, as this is a topic I’ve pondered on for these four years now, when death wielded his scythe so close to home.
The Stoics believed that death is the natural process that ends all things concerning the individual. He is no more. Who are we to tell ourselves phrases such as “When I grow old I shall…” and “When I reach this age, I will be…” as if we have any control over when fortune makes her final, fatal blow upon us? How haughty we are, sometimes.
Since death is inevitable, we must live our most virtuous every day. Why? Every day there is a Sword of Damocles that hangs upon us and sometimes, fortune cuts the thread and lets it fall on our head.
However, there is not one but two Damoclean swords that hang upon us, that of our body and our character. The only difference is our body dies but once but our character dies many deaths. The latter is under the threat of snapping off at every moment, every interaction, and every decision. However, unlike the former, we are given the chance to redeem ourselves in the latter.
Let us be up and doing every day to remain virtuous. We may fail at times but remember, we are only human! Let us be virtuous so we may leave no ill-will here on Earth. As the Asin song Kahapon at Pag-ibig says, “Darating ang panahon ang kabutihan mo ay maiiwan// Sa lupang ito na pinagpala sa nilikhang iba ibang anyo.”
Humans are strange creatures. We like to be productive, nay, we like to appear productive. We like to appear that we are doing something to alleviate situations that we have no control over, when in the end, our poor judgment and passion only aggravate it.
On a busy traffic day, the driver honks on his car, screams, and slurs for the car in front to move. Huh, as if man’s honks, screams, and slurs do anything to get traffic moving along faster. We like to feel stressed and aggravated when we’re late. I know, because I do too, sometimes, when I fear I’m late for Sunday church. It’s foolish of me. It’s as if my feeling stressed gives the car magical energy to move along faster.
The same goes with grief. Don’t get me wrong, grief is natural. However, sometimes, we extend it far too much that it interferes with the productivity of our daily lives. It’s as if our extended, unnatural grief brings our loved ones back. We like to think our grief makes us feel like we’re doing something to bring that loved one back. We miss the love that we give and receive with our loved ones (why else would they be called loved ones?). However, not even this is an issue.
One of my most favorite parts in my favorite book, The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (which, I believe, should be a required read for all senior high school students), is this heartwarming scene: A grief-stricken woman comes to Elder Zosima (a priest) and laments about the death of her young son of seven years. She wants to know how to move on from her grief because her house is an emotional wreck with her fighting her husband and all that.
Elder Zosima patiently listens and tells the woman what we all ought to hear ourselves. We may not be able to ever move on from the death of our loved ones. However, this does not mean we cannot continue living in life. He asks the woman what would her son feel if he sees, from heaven, how they quarrel and fight.
He gently asks her to love her husband as that is the way that she may be able to love her son. I only remember the rough details as I had read the book some time ago, but I highly encourage everyone to read it for themselves and be enthralled.
Anyway, the story taught me that what we truly miss is that reciprocated love because we can no longer reciprocate the love they give us nor vice versa. However, as I’ve come to conclude, that love never truly dies. I know it sounds cliché but it is true.
How? Just ponder. When you show love to thy neighbor, doesn’t that goodness feel similar to the goodness you feel when your best friend gives you a gift or of your significant other giving you love? This great love is plentiful and though our loved ones cease to exist, their love and goodness remains to be reciprocated to others.
In being virtuous, we reward ourselves with that feeling of goodness that makes us feel as if our loved ones never really left. Truly, there is no problem in this life that nature cannot cure. For Death may be inevitable but it is not sure./PN
