Death ends a life, not a relationship. – Morrie Schwartz
In light of recent events in the country, my thoughts push me to think about death. I am very comfortable talking about death, much more talking about my own, wondering how I am going to die, or more specifically, of what disease will probably take my life.
Mother Goose would be fuming mad each time she would hear me or my sisters talk about it. I guess she is a part of the typical Filipino – or even the world’s – culture that cringes each time death would creep up on conversations, as if it can be transmitted if you speak of it.
But of course, I differ in that world view. Maybe because I have so much accepted that death is as natural as living – as it always had been – and it is a lucid truth that it will one day come, and that there is really no harm done when it finally comes, better yet it brings peace. After all, the only way to be with the Absolute is only through it.
When I see people cry over a loss, I had always thought those people are crying because of selfish reasons: because they cannot see, feel, and be with the deceased. But I would always feel relieved each time I would know that someone suffering from an illness or really old age has passed. I would always welcome their peace and end of their suffering. Their passing will always be good news to me.
And when the time comes that it is my time to pass, the thought of my epitaph crossed my mind. It took a nanosecond for me to realize what I wanted written down on it. I would want the same one as that written on Morrie Schwartz’s.
A teacher to the last.