On Death and Dying
question
what does this book personally mean to you? can you relate it to your own experience on death and dying? share your story about the five stages of grief below.
Ain Atiya
Oct 17, 2019 05:43PM
when i heard that my baby brother dies a stillborn at 36 weeks old, i was shocked. my initial reaction was anger. I lashed out. i shut down communication.
and then there was sadness. pining. longing. a love for someone unborn, someone unknown, someone that could be.
and then there was denial. i stared at the walls in my room, looking at nothing. almost an hour passed by in a state of immobile blanked out of both movements of thoughts and body. and then i picked up the phone and called the place i applied for the internship and they accepted me at the very time. i plastered on a fake smile and went to lectures, sitting with my friends, never once bringing up the news, never once showing the depth of my true emotions. i was amazed at myself, how maturely i handled it all. like a real grown-up. like how adults are always taught to never show vulnerability. to always adapt, to always camouflage. to become a chameleon. to learn skills of cover-up and the art of pretending.
but the moment of fake ignorance was cut short. it all came tumbling down on me. as i rushed back to my hometown. as i watched my baby brother. a pair of eyes shut tight. a pair of ears that cannot hear. a pair of hands cold to the touch. a pair of feet lay unmoving. a beautiful angel. closed eyes, heart not beating, a living love.
i started to bargain. i thought of what-ifs. he never got to see the sun. he never got to see his family. didn't he want to cry, as all newborns did? please let him open his eyes and surprise us with a smile. or tears. if he cries all night then i wouldn't mind at all. it would be music to my ears. as long as he gets the chance to live. i've lived mine for 22 years. i'd give my life up for him. as long as he could wake up. for just a second. as long as this isn't real. i watched as he was lowered to the ground. sand amassing sand. he grew out of sight. out of reach. forever in my heart, still.
sitting in the sand pit, life is a short trip. the music for the sad man.
the immediate days after, the depression came without invitation. walking around university, in broad daylight, i found myself wanting to be in the safety of my room. in the midst of a bustling crowd, all i wanted was quiet. images of my dead baby brother are still fresh in my mind. faking interest in other people's conversations is not a talent of mine when my mind is elsewhere and i'd rather be elsewhere. i'm so tired of life moving on when i'm not ready. i grow irritable at everyone else for discussing these worldly things when all i want to do is weep, and be alone for the next week or so, or probably forever. missed my quiz, abandoned my group work, skipped class, you name it. i just don't feel it in me to return back to normality.
would the sadness be lesser if i had touched him?
would the regret be less stronger if i had kissed him?
i found myself becoming angrier and angrier at myself. for being a coward. for the lost opportunity. because now, we're separated by two worlds. the chance is gone.
acceptance is a summit i need to climb on. or a dock to unload and let go. whichever way you look at it. life goes on and life never waits. desperate people find faith. so i guess that should be a start. someday, maybe.
and then there was sadness. pining. longing. a love for someone unborn, someone unknown, someone that could be.
and then there was denial. i stared at the walls in my room, looking at nothing. almost an hour passed by in a state of immobile blanked out of both movements of thoughts and body. and then i picked up the phone and called the place i applied for the internship and they accepted me at the very time. i plastered on a fake smile and went to lectures, sitting with my friends, never once bringing up the news, never once showing the depth of my true emotions. i was amazed at myself, how maturely i handled it all. like a real grown-up. like how adults are always taught to never show vulnerability. to always adapt, to always camouflage. to become a chameleon. to learn skills of cover-up and the art of pretending.
but the moment of fake ignorance was cut short. it all came tumbling down on me. as i rushed back to my hometown. as i watched my baby brother. a pair of eyes shut tight. a pair of ears that cannot hear. a pair of hands cold to the touch. a pair of feet lay unmoving. a beautiful angel. closed eyes, heart not beating, a living love.
i started to bargain. i thought of what-ifs. he never got to see the sun. he never got to see his family. didn't he want to cry, as all newborns did? please let him open his eyes and surprise us with a smile. or tears. if he cries all night then i wouldn't mind at all. it would be music to my ears. as long as he gets the chance to live. i've lived mine for 22 years. i'd give my life up for him. as long as he could wake up. for just a second. as long as this isn't real. i watched as he was lowered to the ground. sand amassing sand. he grew out of sight. out of reach. forever in my heart, still.
sitting in the sand pit, life is a short trip. the music for the sad man.
the immediate days after, the depression came without invitation. walking around university, in broad daylight, i found myself wanting to be in the safety of my room. in the midst of a bustling crowd, all i wanted was quiet. images of my dead baby brother are still fresh in my mind. faking interest in other people's conversations is not a talent of mine when my mind is elsewhere and i'd rather be elsewhere. i'm so tired of life moving on when i'm not ready. i grow irritable at everyone else for discussing these worldly things when all i want to do is weep, and be alone for the next week or so, or probably forever. missed my quiz, abandoned my group work, skipped class, you name it. i just don't feel it in me to return back to normality.
would the sadness be lesser if i had touched him?
would the regret be less stronger if i had kissed him?
i found myself becoming angrier and angrier at myself. for being a coward. for the lost opportunity. because now, we're separated by two worlds. the chance is gone.
acceptance is a summit i need to climb on. or a dock to unload and let go. whichever way you look at it. life goes on and life never waits. desperate people find faith. so i guess that should be a start. someday, maybe.
reply
flag
