Written months back, this was a piece on a dying man struggling to find out the meaning of life. Hope you who reads this will enjoy it!
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Where was
he? Oh right, a hospital.
Why was he
in a hospital? He doesn’t remember – it is some disease, the name was too long
for someone as old as him to remember. If he didn’t remember wrongly, it is
quite a deadly disease. He just can’t remember these small things anymore. He’s
getting too old. Way too old.
Who is he?
He is an old man, with a lovely wife and few children… 3 to be exact. He has
had an enjoyable life, as he would reckon. He could not have asked for a better
wife, and definitely would not have asked for better children than those that
he has happily raised up. They are the gems of his world, his treasures.
What was he
hearing?
“Yes… yes… I
am terribly sorry… only a few days left. It is too deadly, we tried to cure it.”
Brief murmurs came from the adjacent room. The doctor was talking about him. He
didn’t have much time left.
He was going
to die.
The world
around him suddenly erupted, fissures etched across the walls, and the ceiling
shook with all its might! The world seems to tremor and everything was falling
out of place. What was happening?
He can’t
believe that this is happening. What would happen to his beloved wife, his
children? His brilliant grandson who he was waiting for? What will happen to
everyone around him once he is gone? He will never be able to talk to them,
laugh with them again! He can never touch their soft faces, listen to them pour
their hearts out to them again! He will no longer belong to the future, but
forever confined to the past.
Forever.
Why do all
things have to come to an end, when they are brilliant and enjoyable?
Que sera
sera.
He heaved a
sigh. Everything that he cherished would soon be into the oblivion. Is it a bad
thing that everything he created would soon be left behind him? All the
memories he has enjoyed and all the wonderful experiences he has had with his
loved ones…
He still
remembers the first day he met his wife; they were in the same class in high
school. She was like a delicate wild flower waiting to be plucked, like a
beautiful lily that was waiting for its admirer – she caught his eye instantly.
Then the numerous times they spent at the park, admiring the flowers: the
delicate carnations, the beautiful roses and the alluring violets. How flowers
were a symbol of the joy they had while being together. Life was simple, yet
pleasant.
Is life not
pleasant? He recounted the time in that fancy five star restaurant he
painstakingly booked a few weeks in advance where she finally said “yes”. From
that moment on, their lives became intertwined, she was his and he was hers.
Throughout the years, they have watched each other smile, each other cry. Was
it not pleasant? This beautiful love made everything so clear in life; she was
the source of his comfort, the motor that drives him, the substance that he
needs…
He smiled.
His world
blossomed and exploded with fireworks once more when his children came into the
world. They were innocent angels, raw molds for him to shape, and inspire!
Their life was a form of joy to their father, and he was the proudest man in
the world. Nothing would ever changed that.
Years passed
in an instance. One day he was pushing his little kids on the swings,
painstakingly teaching these little devils how to do additions and subtractions
and then the other moment they were already proud students, young adults with
the highest honors after just graduating from their universities. Soon enough,
they have already become adults themselves, having their own wife and children.
Mustering a
chuckle, he realized that actually everything was well. What was there to be
afraid of, to be scared of? His children were well. He loved them, and they
loved him back. He has had a fulfilling life with a beautiful and dedicated
wife. He has done his duty of bringing
his children up, and he has honestly done a pretty good job.
Everything
is well.
Yes.
Everything is well.
He heaved a
sigh of relief, at this realization that everything that was worth living for
has already been attained by him. Death suddenly doesn’t seem that bad after
all.
He closed
his eyes. Everything burst out brilliantly in his mind; his memories swirled
around him, and all his experiences and sound now constitutes an orchestra
playing a wild and gay concerto from and unknown composer. The surrounding
noises chimed in and voices in his head started to play on an infinite loop.
Everything
suddenly burst into life.
Life, or
death?
He didn’t
care.
Lights. He
sees lights.
