A Reflection on Loss and the Embrace of Death
A close friend of mine passed away today, and with it, a flood of emotions and reflections. Nona, as everyone called him, was a man whose life I had shared in friendship over many years here in Georgetown. He died last night and was buried this afternoon, but I didn’t know until midnight tonight. None of my friends called or informed me, so I missed the chance to say a final farewell. The guilt of not being there, not showing up during his final days, weighs heavily on me. Did I abandon him in his time of need? Did I not offer enough compassion? These are the questions that run through my mind.
I will miss him deeply, but part of me feels it was time for him, and in the grand scheme, there was nothing I could have done. Maybe I feared giving false hope—perhaps it was better to let him go peacefully. This is my burden to carry.
Every now and then, death knocks on the door of those we love, and we are reminded that it is not so far behind. It is a reminder that our own time here is finite, fragile. I ask myself, “Am I ready?” The truth is, I don’t know. But I do look forward to it when it happens. It is, after all, inevitable.
What does it feel like to be set free from the confines of this body? To become formless, yet still conscious of being? To be liberated from the fear that keeps us bound to a physical existence? I hope that, when my time comes, I am not alone in the process. Perhaps I will be accompanied by the music of Hans Zimmer’s Pandora, or Kitaro’s Heaven and Earth—songs that have always resonated with me deeply.
It is said that at the moment of death, the sum total of your consciousness is revealed in a flash—a blinding light that erases everything you thought you knew about yourself. It’s like lightning striking, and in its wake, you are left suspended in a state of pure emptiness.
Is that the moment of liberation? I think it is. The only way to know is to experience it.
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