Tis the Season of Death and Dying

My Uncle Bombin and Papa Gas (my grandfather) have died a month within each other. I can only imagine how funny the conversation would be if they met at the pearly gates. Since they both passed away, I’ve been thinking often about death and dying. Thinking about how grateful I am about death.

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I’m grateful for death because it forces me not to take life for granted, to let go of petty grudges, and to enjoy the little moments. For example, today Mr. Squigglekins and I stayed inside and watched our newest favorite HBO show Getting On, while listening to the much needed rain pitter patter on the window. It wasn’t anything big, but those simple moments makes me happy to be alive.

It also makes me realize that everyone is the same, we all are worm meal after we die. Take away the superficial ornaments we wear- the titles, clothes, cosmetics, anything that fuels our “ego,” we are all dust. The celebrities you think are better than you because they have fame and fortune, they too will die and turn into ash. The person you want revenge on, he or she will die and turn into worm meal too. Death does not discriminate, and that’s wonderful. Wonderful because the common denominator we all have is mortality, we’re not so different after all.

Watching a dying person is heartbreaking. When I attended Uncle Bombin’s last “birthday” (it wasn’t really his birthday but his family had a party because they knew his time was short),I didn’t even recognize him until I hugged him. He was so thin, frail, and sickly. Even though he was dying, he tried to do the things he did before he was sick. Dance, laugh, make conversation, etc. To see someone who is the shell of what he or she used to be is upsetting and terrifying. Upsetting because you want that dying person to get better and terrifying because you realize you too are going to be in that position some day.

Deep down I’m still shocked that they are both gone. My Uncle Bombin died from pancreatic cancer and Papa Gas died from old age, he was 99. Part of me feels that I shouldn’t be grieving (not sure if that’s the right word) because I wasn’t emotionally close to them. I’m glad they’re not suffering anymore, but its a weird adjustment to not see them at family functions anymore. I guess I took them for granted, thinking they were going to overcome their ailments, but nothing lasts forever.

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