IMAGINING MY DEATH

 IMAGINING MY DEATH

Isn’t it fascinating to think about death? Couldn’t it be a great escape to just die? All of us would have thought about killing ourselves but most of us don’t have the courage to do so, but it should not be too difficult to think and imagine one’s death. Let’s imagine together what my death will be like and its consequences as well. I will try to be raw and honest. It might be pretty intense.

 

 

 If I attempt suicide, I guess I will probably hang myself. Cutting and bleeding to death is more gross and painful. First, Mom will probably enter my room to find my body. This could send her in shock. She will definitely scream. My sister will join next, confused, doesn’t understand what is happening watching mom crying and me, well dead. Dad will come after that, asking, “what happened?” and when he will see me, he will also shout. Mom will be wondering what happened, being in denial. She will probably ask dad to see what happened, having a glimpse of hope that I might be alive. Dad, will then come forward to check whether I am alive. He will check my pulse, that will be stopped by that time and my temperature that will have dropped. My skin pale and me, completely and totally dead. My face must be blue and my breathing stopped. My heart cold. No warmth coming from my body, so non-radiant and no sense of life, They will soon realize I will not smile again, mock them, laugh, crack silly jokes, act little dumb, pour them water, turn the valve on, ask for money to go for ice-cream, go out with friends, ask for privacy, express thoughts , try to be smart talking about politics, fight with my sister, mock her, try to teach her science, laugh when she speaks a word wrong, mess with her, fight with mom, try to give teen logics and excuses that do not exist in the real world, stay up late at night, give exams, go to school, look happy buying new clothes and shoes, look in the mirror a million times before I leave for school, break stuff, mess things up, get good grades or fail, and will no longer live with them. I will never have a girlfriend which I will try to keep secret from them that they will know about but try to play strange, never go to college, get married and dad will never lead my Baarat, l will never have a car, a family, children, friends sleeping over, be able to grow old, take them to doctor, be with them through thick and thin, to when they die, watch them going, carry them to grave, talk about them on funeral. That’s when they will know I am far gone. This time for good and I am never coming back. That’s when they will know. That is when they will cry and shout and go mad and will be willing to give up everything to bring me back. But not much time before they will realize that damage is done and there is no going back. That is when the harsh reality of life will be unfolded before them. It will hit them as a stunning spear cutting through their hearts. That is when they acknowledge my death.

Mom will cry hugging my cloths, in deep grief. Dad will lose it and will Brust into tears, won’t eat food or go to work. They will be in tears all day and night. Sleep and peace will not come to them as they will remember my time with them. My memories will haunt them like demons forever, demons that they could never burry. They will remember the first time I walked, first time I talked, first time they took me to school and how I couldn’t bear them leaving my sight that day, and how I used to cry all day long before they came to take me home. They will remember how happy I used to get seeing their faces after school, and how eventually I fell in love with school. How mom used to teach me alphabets and make me write pages. How happy they were when I scored good in 1^st grade and kept acing every class. “He was quite smart”, they will say. They will remember how happy I was and how happy they were when I scored good grades in my boards. They will look at my phone and remember how I emotionally blackmailed them to get it. They will look at my desk and remember how I used to study and act all mature when I was on it. They will look at my bed and remember how sometimes they had to pull out of it and how sometimes I used to wake up even before them. They will look at the walls of my room, at my posters and paintings and remember how I used to fight with mom to make her not to remove them as they are my great art. Never will they forget how much light I had in me, my potential, my courage to put my words, and willingness to work as hard to achieve my aims. They will cry and remember how they used to cheer and look at me when I participated in competition, the light and hope and feeling of proud they had in their eyes watching me perform. Like they were continuously saying “that’s my kid”.

 

Mom will curse God may be, she will be willing to start a war against him. But soon after that they both will try to seek refuge and peace in the fact that I went to God and I will have a good afterlife. But we all know that is unsettling even for believers like mom and dad.

But the real question that will be roaming in their minds all the time, ringing louder that Spidey alarm will be “why?”. They will be wondering for life what did they do wrong. They would wonder about my mental health and were I depressed or what happened so wrong that I killed myself. It will be the most unsettling and question for them? They will start to put things together about my behavior, the way I used to be in my room all day long, was I so alone? They might ask my friends. They might never be able to understand this and forgive themselves.

People will try and console them saying it is fate. But really? Is suicide not a choice and just fate? I completely differ with that opinion. But mom and dad will eventually try and believe the fate analogy of my death, after all that might be the only way for them. People and neighbors will also talk about my incidents and encounters with them. How good I was, how polite maybe, helpful. I will have a big Islamic funeral. The imam who will lead the prayer will talk about me little, and afterlife and greatness of religion lot more. I might be considered a disgrace in Islam if I suicide but people are kinder and smarter than the religion so they will overlook this fact. People, family, friends will grieve.

My friends will be shocked with this news, my best friend will definitely cry, no matter how tough he acts. He will come running to my house. My other best friend will also not be able to hold tears. They will not be able to consciously conceal my death and will be in denial probably. My other friends as well, will rush to see me. My crush might also feel bad but then she will go on and think about herself, being little too self-consumed. My relatives will also come to my funeral, they will cry, some with real tears, some for the sake of my parents or peer pressure, or to show my parents they care. My cousins will be there, and one of them to whom I was very close will be feeling really sad and crying inside. My beloved aunt will cry too loud as I am most close to her, remembering how I used to be the funniest person she knew, with a lot of opinion and point of views and super-cool and super-weird thoughts. My uncle will not be able to hold tears remembering how adult I tried to be and how hilarious I used to be around him but at the same time he will have to console my parents. My teachers will heat about this and regret. Especially, that physics teacher with whom I used to discuss a lot of cool physics stuff. “What a loss, people will say”.

For four days, people will come in huge numbers, according to the customs and neighbors will cook for my family. After that the numbers will start to decrease and my family will have to cook for themselves. Other relatives will be with my parents for a while but will return to their lives gradually. Friends will be devastated at first but soon move on. I will be the talk of the masses around for night and the next day, some other news will take over. To even huge masses nothing would have happened. Most people who ever knew me will eventually move on; I mean they have to. And the earth will never have even acknowledged my existence.

“Those who lost a friend will get a new one, those who lost a relative have plenty others, but those who lost a son will not get him back, she who lost a brother will never have a same one and he who lost a life, will never get another.’’

I and only I will lose all the beautiful and bad things, all experiences in life. I will lose all of that. I will never be able to do good in anything, make mistakes, make new friends, have a relationship, a career, home, place, family, children or a disease.  Its only me who will lose. And with my family losing me and feeling guilty for life, it is again as I say, “I, who will lose”. So, I ask myself only this one question,” Is it all worth it?” and the answer I get, and that any rational man will get is “NO” it is not.

 

-Forward

Even if things are not right sometimes, we don’t quit. That is not an option, because you are not getting a second chance. We should communicate with people who care about us. If things are actually severe, unprocessed emotions, depression, suicidal thoughts and other mental health issues, one must see a specialist. We must acknowledge and educate ourselves with mental health and its importance. Talk to people important to us and see and help them if they are suffering from any mental health problem. Physical problems are prominent and noticed easily. The real problem is with mental health. One can be very ill mentally but could not acknowledge it until very late. One can try various things to get better like hobbies, meditation, etc. One thing that works wonders for me is writing and thus, processing emotions. The standard operating procedure goes like; Thinking about something? Think as hard as you can, go to its immense depths, write it, process it and get it over with. We must not stop growing.

 

 

 

From the writer;

 

-I do not intent to hurt anyone’s religious or personal beliefs, or emotions. All my writings are but my opinion and imagination, and I don’t hold on to any of my opinions because that is the thing about opinions, they change. Feel free to quote any of my writings. No copyrights are claimed. If anything offensive or unsettling is found by any user on the page, the writer is not to be held responsible.

Thank you!

_By Ayan Pathan.                                              e-mail : ayan007pathan01@gmail.com         

  website.ayansblogsop.blogspot.com 

   posted on : THE STANDARD MODEL

-my personal blog.