Ever since I was little I’ve had a very irrational fear of death. It is a concept and an act that I can’t seem to understand at all. What happens after? Do we still feel something? Where do we go? Most importantly, do I watch the ones I love suffer my loss?
I recently saw a video, can’t remember where it was from, but it was a Tumblr post of someone saying that they imagined death as getting carried by your parents to your bedroom when you fell asleep on the couch watching a movie or playing videogames as a kid. That resonated with me in a very deep level because if I have no way of knowing or understanding what comes after, I might as well make it my own.
Death is the view from my bedroom window on a sunny Sunday morning at my parents house. Death is getting to play Fable for the very first time over again. Death is the first apartment I ever lived in after moving out of my parents house where I had my first taste of independece. Death is the corner store close to my grandparents house where my aunt would buy me Digimon and Transformers toys while visiting for Christmas. Death is all the people and places that have no way of coming back, but that I still somehow hope to find at the same place I left them.
I would like to think that after all is said and done, at the end of my life, I can greet death as a an old friend. One who has watched over me throughout the years, capturing places and memories that are no longer, waiting for the moment when we can finally meet again.