And sorry for being so morbid on such a lovely Friday morning but after reading something my girl Jayne wrote (FYI this bitch can BLOW!) a few days ago I was totally taken back to the days when death was my biggest fear.
It all started when I was still in elementary school. Me and my mom visited the Philippines (PI) for the first time since moving from there to SF when I was 2. My real family lived there. My uncle that would bring me on his bike to the corner store to play Super Mario Bros. on NES, and my grandmother who would boil hot water on the stove just so I wouldn't have to take cold showers. As well as my other uncle, my grandpa, and 2 little cousins. The Philippines was where I was loved and spoiled. Despite the living situation and poor economy, never were people so giving and caring towards me.
Which is why I was more than a mess when I had to go back home. I would lay in bed staring at my stuffed animals wishing they were my family in PI. Then I would think of my grandparents and and cry at the thought of them getting old and frail. Would my grandpa still be able to carry me on his shoulders the next time I see him? Would my grandma still have the energy to get up every morning and make me warm milk? (Told u I was spoiled lol). I want to cry just writing about it.
It was then that I came to the realization that one day, we will all die.
And so began the ghastly obsession.
How does it feel to be dead? Is it just an eternity of seeing nothing but the darkness of ur closed coffin? O wait. I wouldn't know 'cuz DUHHH I'm dead! Does it hurt? Does it feel good? Do u go to heaven? Do u end up in purgatory? Do u go to hell? Is there really such thing as any of the above? What's the deal with reincarnation?Then, came the anxiety attacks. Oddly enough, they always came on beautiful days.
I'll never get to feel the sand squish in between my toes on Kailua Beach ever again. I'll never be able to look at my mom and admire her beauty ever again. I'll never be able to sip bloody mary's by the pool and share laughs with my girlfriends ever again. I'll never be able to feel my puppy's playful licks on my face ever again. I'll never be able to drunk fountain jump in Vegas ever again. I'll never be able to wake up in his "nook" ever again. I'll never be able to night kayak in bioluminescent waters ever again. I'll never feel the cold, crisp air at the very top of a Heavenly sky lift ever again. I'll never feel the warm Puerto Rican sun kiss the back of my neck ever again. I'll never be able to taste kim-chee beef fried rice or spicy shrimp over cheesy grits ever again. I'll never watch an over-priced movie and eat over-priced popcorn at a movie theater ever again. I'll never be able to watch a Giants baseball game in the best ballpark in the best city in the world ever again. I'll never be able to see my family in the Philippines ever again.
I'll never hear another baby giggle. See another friend smile. Seek comfort from my mother. Kiss my boyfriend. Write a blog. Sing a song. Do the robot. Design a dress. Read a book. Cry from laughing. Or dream a dream. Ever. Again.
Fucked up ain't it?
What's even more fucked up is the fact that I'm scared to shit of ghost. When I don't even know if they exist. When I've never encountered one myself. But u figure, it would be a good thing because that would mean there IS life after death. So in a sense, I kind of hang on to that absurd yet comforting thought. And check myself for being so ungrateful when I wake up in the morning.
That despite every moment of anguish, struggle, and heartache - I am lucky to be loved, have a roof over my head, clothes on my body, be in good health, and in the prescence of amazing people. And most of all, lucky to be alive. I realized the more attention I paid to death, the less attention I paid to life. So as cliche as it sounds, make the most of the time u have here on Earth 'cuz u never know when ur last day on it will be.