On Death

My girlfriend and I were having dinner when the topic of our conversation shifted to something I’m not comfortable talking about:

Death.

Between spoonfuls, I was telling my girlfriend about my cute little niece.

“She plays all day, non-stop! And every time she gets asked to stop playing, she cries and she goes to my mom. Then my mom would let her play and she’ll stop crying.”

She laughed as though she can relate.

“Grandma to the rescue! Maybe kids tend to be really close to their grandmothers,” I added.

“Yes, that’s true,” She responded with a convinced nod.

I smiled at her and continued to finish my meal. There was a long pause. None of us said a word, so I thought the conversation about my niece and grandmother was over.

But then she said something.

“She was my only true best friend.”

There was something different when she said it. I sensed pain and grief in her voice.

She hasn’t told me much about her grandmother before. And when it was brought up, she suddenly looked sad. It caused me to be intrigued. But instead of pressing on her, I kept silent. I felt it was better to show her I’m willing to listen to whatever it is she wanted to share.

And sure enough, she resumed. “When I was a kid, whenever someone in the house scolded me, I would go to my grandma because I knew she would defend me. Then I’d tell her what happened, and then I’d be okay again. You see, she was the only person I would open up to.”

Then I knew I struck a sensitive string.

I know her mom and dad separated when she was still very young. After the separation, both of her parents had their own families. So my girlfriend was left to the care of her aunts and her grandmother. Considering that, she must have been really close to her guardians, especially her grandmother.

“Then she died when I was 6-years old.”

That’s when the tears started to roll down her face.

Maybe I was supposed to tell her it’s okay, but I didn’t. Plainly because it’s not. Losing someone you love is never okay — never. So I just sat there and let her cry out the pain.

“I never seemed to have moved on from her death, even after all these years.”

That resonated with me. Even though I haven’t lost a loved one yet, I quite understand what she means.

Just thinking about the concept of death, a surge of different emotions get into me. Death is unacceptable. Death is unfair. Death is inevitable.

You get to be born in this world, and you live with the people you love, you create a lot of memories together, you develop a deep bond and connection, and then one day Death will just take every person you love away. How can that ever be acceptable?

I perfectly understand why my girlfriend hasn’t moved on from the death of her grandma, because if I lose a loved one, too, I’m sure the pain will never go away either. And as she continued to tell her story, a lot of questions started to form at the back of my head: How would I feel if someone I love dies? How terrible would that feel?

An image of my mom and my sisters flashed in my mind. I can’t lose them, I thought. Why do I have to, just because death says so? No, that’s unfair. They are the only ones who are really important to me. They are the reason why I’m trying so hard to be good in everything that I do. It’s all for them. If I lose just one of them, my life would be meaningless. I probably won’t have the energy and passion for carrying on with my life. Just the thought of it is unbearable.

That’s when I started crying, too. The reason why I’m not comfortable talking about death is because I can’t accept the fact that someday someone I love will die.

Perhaps my girlfriend is right. You can never move on from the death of a loved one. There will always be a scar that’ll remind you that a part of yourself, your soul, and your heart has been gone forever. There’s a void that will always remain, and all you can do is keep yourself busy to not be reminded of this ugly truth:

You can never move on, you can never forget, the pain will never go away, and you can’t do anything about it. Death will come to take everyone you love, and it’s only a matter of time.

Originally published in Thought Cloud.