THE Buffy Sainte-Marie song of the same title had been very popular in my high school days so much that, when one of its more known cover-singers tragically died from sickness, I always associated death with that song from then on. Even as the lyrics may have just merely talked about an end to a relationship, the feel of death still clung on whenever I recalled that particular tune.
I may have thought then it was only in a poetic or philosophical sense that moving on and dying could be considered as close relatives. Much later, I even had to convince myself it was unfair to establish a connect between all other forms of transitions with that of actual death.
Of course, we all know not all departures (such as, moving to a new country or leaving an old job) lead to unhappy moments, although during some really pensive moments, they may seem that way. I even recall what had been written a long time ago; that we all die a little bit each day. But then, I would like to believed that the one who penned it may have merely been talking along the lines of tiny bits of skin falling away from us with each second, then to be replaced with new ones. So, perhaps he could be correct there. Until now, that is.
There is this great feeling of sadness that has accompanied the recent passing of a close friend’s better half. Not only was she a dear friend too but she was all that and more, with everyone she knew in the artist community. Her death has taken me back to that very song once again and all the memories that come with it. The thing is, this heavy feeling of permanence brought by death is what is the saddest part of it all.
In any person’s life, when we die, that’s it, game over. No replay and just like that, one’s supposed journey on this plane is over. Humans that we are, we like to think that we will all meet again “someday”. Yet I wait and there is still nobody who has ever come back from beyond death’s curtains to tell me that’s even true.
So, for us the living, there’s nothing else to do but to trudge on ever forward. As they all say, we all have our own roads to travel so we keep at it. Those material things left behind by our loved ones who have gone ahead may remind us of them at least and that may work for a while. They’d be like the tiny flakes of skin that fall off a piece at a time, but this time, no new ones replace will them. As we continue on, memories will be all that remain. For the rest of our journey, it may be best to create more of these while we can. That may be enough until it’s our turn and then it’s time for us to go.
HONORING MY MOTHER
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