July 20, 2015

Life is like a box of chocolates... and then you die.

Last weekend, my Facebook wall welcomed me with a couple of grim news, and by grim I do not mean the hopeless state of Metro Manila traffic, nor my country's addiction to corruption.

A friend I've known since high school just lost her unborn son, and (by no coincidence whatsoever) an officemate of mine lost her battle to cancer.** Loss on opposite ends of the spectrum, but a sad loss nonetheless.

I was able to visit my officemate's wake earlier this evening, and I noticed that I was a bit apprehensive to look into the coffin. Normally I have no issues in doing so, but this time it was especially difficult for me because I keep on remembering the last time I saw her alive. It was in our office, no more than a month ago. She was just carrying on, business as usual. Yes, she did look wearier than her usual self, but gave no indication that she was struggling for three years or so. Thinking about this made me admire her for being strong for that long, but at the same time saddened me deeply as I felt that it just wasn't her time to go.

As a Catholic I know that I shouldn't be sad or scared of what happened; I've been "trained" my entire life not to fear *physical* death. Easy to say, but extremely difficult to practice. Just thinking about the people (or worse, the things) you would leave behind, more so the experiences (or worse, the things) you still want to attain, are enough to NOT want to leave the world behind. I know--and recognize--that such mindset is wrong, but it's not easy to go against your human nature to survive and to live a better life.

I just hope that I have enough time to unlearn all these worldly views and have peace within myself.
...more importantly, do all of those things within His time and not mine.

** Browsing through the Internet, it seems that people with cancer actually dislike this idiom, but I don't know what better phrase to use; apologies for those who are offended by this.

1 comment:

  1. I lost my lola forty-one days ago. She was 92.

    True, those dreams that are yet to be achieved get me thinking about not wanting to leave this world. For now, I try to live in the moment. I can only hope to live as long as my lola did, and to have my health until then like she did.