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When I Die 2/5/2012 9:52:31 PM
Suddenly, I have this premonition that I was dead. So how will I die? Where will I die? What will be my wake be like? Where will I be buried?
I really don’t know how I will die. I may die with some disease or die a natural death. I certainly would like to die at a mature age of 80. But if I surpassed that age, the better. It is just icing on the cake. Most of my relatives die at a very young age, 36, 40’s, and 50’s. They died of heart attacks. The ones that die now are in their 60’s and they lived for a long time because of modern medicine. I don’t know if it is the quality of health care that prevented them from dying young. But it seems like it is so. My dad died when he was 69. That’s pretty old. And he died because he did not want to live anymore. He was suffering from heart disease, probably because of multiple heart attacks. But he survived until he was 69. The quality of health care was excellent. But, how about that thing we call 'quality of life?" We had a conversation once. He said that it was better to die than live a life wherein the quality of life was not worth living it. When I was younger, he said that he wanted to die young and beautiful. Hahaha. Of course, it was a joke. I certainly like to die among my closest family. Perhaps, if I know that I am dying, I will go back to the Bay Area, where everyone is. At least I will feel that if I am not important to the world, I still will be important to those I loved. But I certainly don’t know when or where I will catch myself dead. Who knows, I may be dead on my bed without realizing it, or anyone does. I will be discovered by neighbors because they can just smell the stench. But that is the worst case scenario. That was why I exercise so I would not pass away just like that.
Discussing death or dying is a no-no for my family – on my mother’s side. My grandfather was certainly scared of it. I remembered when I was a child; my grandmother was buying a plot of land where she was going to be buried. I asked her what that plot of land was for. She just mentioned that it was for my grandmother. Not understanding what she meant, I just let it go. When I had matured a little bit, I began to understand why she was buying that plot of land. But my grandfather did not allow her to buy that plot of land. He was just too scared that if she proceeded in purchasing it, things will indeed come through. My mother was the same way. She, too, was scared of the idea of dying. But lately, she had opened to the idea that everyone will pass away, including her. So, she bought a plot of land herself. And when we discussed about death, she was opened to it. She was never more scared. (After all, she is almost 75 year old.)
I don’t know if I will have the wake of my maternal grandfather. I heard that his wake was huge. Everyone important was present – the mayor of Manila, congressman and senators – aside from his beloved family. At any rate, he died at the age of 74. His classmates and friends were at that age wherein they had grown into that position. But I still don’t know what type of wake I will have. I may not even care since, you know, I’m dead. But if I had a soul, I would be a witness to my own wake. So, what type of wake should I have? Well, the least one I shall have is having my family near me. If the gathering had grown to more of it, then the better it is. That was why I’d like to go back to the Bay Area if and when I know I am going to die.
The burial is simple. I’m seeing myself being in a box and plop down in any grave. I wouldn’t know anyway where because…I’m dead.
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