Yesterday, as I flipped through The Star newspaper which one of my housemates brought home, I accidentally reached the page of the obituary. I don’t normally read obituaries. But for some inexplicable reasons, I decided to take a look at the page. I mourned for the death of a very professional looking doctor, noted his relatives and read a short description about him. Then I looked at the box next to his and the name struck as familiar. I felt certain that I had seen that surname somewhere before.
As it turned out, it was the father of a friend. I have met the father. I had gone to church with him when I went to visit my friend. He had driven me to church and to other places, together with his daughter. I had seen his house. He was younger than my parents. And he passed away on my 19th birthday.
As I had birthday songs sung to me, complete with cakes and Indo Mee and Rocky, somewhere at the other end of Peninsula Malaysia, there was mourning. The entire situation feels so paradoxical; life and death occurring at the same time. I have always felt that birthdays should not be celebrated out of obligation, but rather out of a genuine gratitude of the presence of the person in our lives. If I celebrate someone’s birthday, it would be out of the fact that I am sincerely grateful for the impact that he or she has left in me.
So when I link my thoughts to death, I honestly feel that birthdays as a celebration of life should carry far more meaning that the conventional, highly publicised form that birthdays have taken. In a funeral’s eulogy, one often likes to reminisce the moments spent with the deceased, having once taken for granted that there would be more moments to come. Sometimes we think: What if there isn’t? Surely it is impossible to live like we’re dying because if I am, I won’t bother to get anything done. But perhaps it would do a lot of good if we can remember the value of life as it is; to look past the inadequacies and flaws of human nature and raise a glass to our imperfections and the chance given in the form of time to improve ourselves.
1 comment:
It's sad to think about death. There was a junior from my school who passed away recently and I couldn't help wondering about the brevity of it all. I might have spoken to her in high school, passed her in a corridor somewhere... certainly puts things into perspective :/ But like you said it's not that easy to live life like you're dying. I'm sure we'd all end up saying 'screw exams' and living the hedonistic lifestyle XD Future Dorian Grays we'd be lol
P.S: Hello :P I've finally blawg-stalked you!
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