Death...

It's always strange, it resuscitates a certain feeling, I do not know how to describe it, but I certainly know how it is like. It incarnates your deepest fear and exploit your unresolved issues, it doesn't matter who is dead or how old, it doesn't even matter if you knew that person or not. Some put it like a long period of sleep, but it's a wake up call, a wake up for everything that you put on halt, for everything you buried in the sand, things you didn't want to be reminded of, things that confuse you, it reveals unanswered questions, or maybe ones with the most undesirable answer...

Old people always find a consolation when they describe the funeral to be "the best" one could have, nice, and full of people, or the food to be great, trying to put their scare aside.
Funerals aren't always the same though, old people exits are usually calm with not many words to say, they weren't needed, pretty useless, and sick anyway...It's a great chance to mention how great they were and fake some stories, spicing things up with some drama, such as loneliness, inheritance issues, people who didn't show up, revealing the dark secrets that should be kept in order to keep stains away from the glorified images built through countless speeches throughout the process. There'll always be those nosy people, who always ask questions, that no one is ready to answer, some are in grief but those have come to collect stories and make up tales.

It is creepy and it freaks me out, you wonder, and bang your head into the wall with millions of questions without an answer, one thing you know, is that the dead are gone for good. You'll never see them, speak to them or hear from them again. You want to know how it feels, you want to know if it inflicts pain, you want to know what is it, you want to understand the mechanism. Unfortunately no one comes back to tell you what were they got into, or what were they doing.

No matter how many times it comes near you, it always trigger you, you never become familiar with such a thing, that you know nothing about, that deprives you of the people you know and often love, that sends chills down your spine, that leaves you shattered in grief, or perplexed with inexplicable emotions.

It always angers you; the feeling of being toyed with, of building castles and having God to destroy them, you feel manipulated and helpless, why did you do that, and how could you hurt me like that, you get to calm down a bit later and repeat Einstein's famous cliche: "God does not play dice." If you believe that he's there, it's all for the good. Later you feel that you were given the gift to outsmart yourself and understand what was the good about it and why it has happened. The fact is that it happens because it just is, here's no way you could think of to make it sound better.

It could be a plan executed with precision, described by the fact that it was the permanent end of a biological organism, could be earlier due to the effects of wear or rust, or that it is the permanent separation of body and soul. One thing I know for sure, I don't want to die before getting an answer to my questions, before reaching what I seek in this life. I don't want to die with the desire to live, I don't want to die unless I am attracted by the myth of what is going to happen next, I want to die when I am done.

The pain always comes from those who are still alive, people get worried for what and who they can still see, but no one said it's going to be easier for the dead.

I conclude with this line:
"Death is certain, since it is inevitable, but also uncertain, since its diagnosis is sometimes fallible"

Jacques-Benigne Winslow, Danish Anatomist: Morte incertae signa, 1740

May you rest in peace.