Everybody Dies

Today’s Daily Prompt caught my eye due to many reasons. One, it revolves around life and death, a subject I am very interested in. Second, immortality, a subject controversial to those who believe.

But the third and most important reason was that I have no answer to the question asked.

I have just always know that people die. That no one is immortal. That all life begins one day, and comes to an end another.

When I was two or three, I came to know that everyone has two sets of grandparents. I only had one. I wondered why, and eventually found the answers.

My paternal grandmother, the Dadi, a matriarchal figure who has a lot of say in Pakistani households, unfortunately never lived long enough to see her own children grow up, let alone her grandchildren.

During the 1950s, in the cold mountains of scenic Quetta, my grandmother contacted pneumonia. Penicillin could have saved her life, but alas it was not readily available in Pakistan during those times. She passed away, and left behind 4 children. My father, the eldest, was around 8 years old and my uncle, the youngest, was fragile at 10 months.

My father not only raised his brothers and sisters, but raised himself and became the successful man he is now.

My paternal grandfather lived just long enough to play with four of his grandchildren. Only I was unlucky enough to not be blessed by him. A healthy, athletic man; he died due to a sudden brain hemorrhage sometime in the 1980s.

My maternal grandmother passed away due to prolonged illness when I was six or seven years old.

The most time I spent was with my maternal grandfather, my Nana, who lived to around 90 years. I saw, with my own eyes, the life leave his body. In fact, a few minutes before he passed away, I sat in an empty room upstairs, cried and prayed to Allah to make his life easier and let him peacefully pass into the Hereafter. I sat on the stairs facing his room and watched while he breathed his last. I was 11 or 12 at that time.

I sometimes think that my subconscious embraces death as a part of life due to my early experience with it. And by early I mean mother’s womb early. My mother had a difficult pregnancy and the doctor decided to perform an abortion. The surgery took place. I miraculously survived. According to the doctor, my twin died; since, unknowingly, there wasn’t one, but two babies that were supposed to come into this world.

Death has never scared me. Death has never been new for me. There was never a time when I believed that we are immortal. It was not a concept I knew much of until I started to read fantasy books.

I knew from the beginning that all living things die at one time or another.

I guess I was a realist from the start!

Related Posts:

(Almost) Lost Shoe | Traversing Lines

I lived as a child | I Pen my Musings

Life | My Simple Life

Finite Creatures | River of Life Flows

Hollow Graves | Thought Process of a Rare Neuj


The Matrix Quote

“It is remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity.”

Says Merovingian “The Frenchman”, the computer-program villain in the Matrix Revolutions. Althought I’m not a fan of the Matrix film franchise, this little speech Merovingian gives to Trinity, instantly caught my eye, or shall I say, my ears.

Merovingian sneers at the leather-clad Trinity when she implies that she is ready to die for saviour-of-all Neo, stating that she is insane for doing so.

Is dying, the ultimate sacrifice, for a loved one a show of dedication, or simple foolishness?