my greatest fear
October 31, 2016 • life, musings, personal
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People always ask others, “what is your greatest fear?” Until recently, I never had a proper answer to that. I would hear people say things such as spiders, heights, the dark, elevators, etc. When the question would be directed at me, I’d make something up, like ghosts or roller coasters.
Over the past couple of months, I have realized my greatest fear is death.
I fear people dying. I fear for their lost time and sudden end. I fear what happens to their loved ones once they’re gone. I fear mourning because I’m not quite sure how to express my own. And I fear the heartbreak that comes along with knowing that these people who have passed are gone forever.
I’d been exposed to death since a young age. All four of my grandparents passed away, some while I was too young to understand, and others not too long ago, making me catch a glimpse of what death really means. Soon after, I became exposed to younger people dying. People who were in their twenties and thirties, like my cousin, who passed August 2015 from breast cancer. It dawned on me then that death had no age. Someone could die at any moment from anything, no matter how old or safe they were, and that was when I began to fear it. Because it was something no one could truly see happening or predict, and it was so final -- no second chances or do-overs -- both for those that died and their loved ones.
Around the end of 2013, one of my uncles passed away. He was getting old, but none of us really expected it because he’d been doing relatively well despite his heart problems. No one ever really thought about their loved ones dying unless they were severely sick and it was confirmed that they had a limited amount of time to live. Even then, people thought, “we’ve got time,” and there was no way this person could leave them forever. I had thought something similar and there’s something so naive and innocent about that thought. So hopeful.
School had been keeping me busy and I had been angry with my uncle about something that is insignificant now. Because of that, I had delayed going over to see him even though I knew he was due a visit from me; he’d treated me like his own daughter and we were close. The week of my final exams, my parents told me they were going over to see him and if I wanted to go with them. I’d told them no and that I’d go over and see him the next day for sure.
Little did I know, he wouldn’t make it to the next day.
We got the call sometime around two or three in the morning, only a few hours after my parents had said goodbye to him. My heart was in my throat the entire drive over, praying over and over that he was going to make it and that it was alright. I didn’t want to believe that he wouldn’t be because it had been so long since I last saw or properly spoken to him, and I needed to do that before he died. I had so much I wanted to say. I was suddenly filled with undeniable guilt, even though I knew I couldn’t have ever predicted this. No one could. When it was confirmed that he was gone, I sat and watched him on his bed for the rest of the night and into the morning, still and so peaceful, while inside my heart it was anything but.
I understood then that time was truly precious. That it was short and fleeting, and when people told you to never forget to tell the people around you that you love them or never let a day go to waste because tomorrow wasn’t promised, they knew what they were saying. These sayings weren’t cheesy nor untrue. It was powerful because if I’d just gone that night with my parents or I let my anger fade, I could have seen my uncle once again and told him what I tell him every day in my prayers -- that I miss him and I love him and I hope he’s okay.
Sometimes it isn’t even anger that gets in the way. Sometimes it’s your own time. As I mentioned earlier, one of my cousins, who was only in her early thirties, passed away about a year or so ago. I grew up with her and she very often took care of me. She had been living in Australia, so with time difference and our busy schedules, we couldn’t keep in steady contact after she moved away. We only reached out every now and then through Facebook. And sadly, the last time I’d seen her face to face was in 2009 and even then, we didn’t get to properly hang out.
Hearing about her death, there had been so many times that it crossed my mind how I should have made more of an effort to be with her when I last saw her. How I should have reached out a little more and just let her know I was thinking about her. Because truth was, I really was thinking about her, and worried about the cancer looming over her while she had two young kids and the rest of her life ahead of her. I just never made the move to message, which drives me crazy now. Just like my uncle, I also think about my cousin and my grandparents everyday, and pray that they’re resting easy.
Mourning all these deaths were strange. People say that there is a “mourning period” but I feel like I’m still mourning them to this day, and probably will forever. I believe that the act of mourning is different for everyone. Some people cry until they’re all out of tears while others freeze up because they don’t know how to deal with it or accept it. For me, personally, I try not to think about it. I try to distract myself and occupy my mind because otherwise, I’d break down. It’s difficult thinking about all these people that I love not being here anymore while my life goes on. It’s hard coming to terms with the fact that I will never get to see them again nor will I ever be able to talk to them again. They’re gone and one day we all will be, too. We just don’t know when and that’s scary to me.
It has made me extremely paranoid, too. I don’t take death lightly at all and I constantly worry about my loved ones. And sometimes it’s not even just loved ones -- even hearing about death in the news regarding mass killings or shootings is difficult. We’re all powerless and so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. You never know when the last time will be that you will see someone. Realists might argue and say, “we’re all going to die. And everyone knows it, so why be scared of it?” While that is true, it doesn’t make it any easier. Simply by saying that won’t make me fear death and the unknown any less, nor will it take away my heartache.
In the wake of all these attacks happening around the world, especially Syria, my heart goes out to everyone who lost someone. No one should have to live in fear and pain like this. Same goes for those who are battling cancer. October was Cancer Awareness Month, and I know how scary it is knowing that your time here could be limited. Working at a cancer research hospital gives me hope, though, knowing that some of them might be okay even if it’s for a little while.
My greatest fear isn’t something that will go away because it’s inevitable and it’s real. I just hope that in the future when someone passes, God forbid, I can mourn them without regret that I hadn’t made an effort to tell them how much they mean to me.
Bryant Park, New York, NY 10018, USA
these things will change
October 29, 2016 • life, musings, personal
I was venting to one of my friend’s once about how lately I’ve been craving change. The problem is, I’m not quite sure where to start. In return, he sent me a quote that said, “You can change yourself as much as possible and change things around you just to reach that goal,” and added, “You just need to do it. Decide what you want and go for it. If you mess up, then start over. There are no rules.”
Change has been on my mind for a while. As we grow older and we’re faced with more and more responsibilities, life can start to become a routine. We wake up everyday, go to work/school, come home, and manage to do one or two things before we’re exhausted and call it a night. When the weekend comes around, we’re too tired from the week to bother to make any plans, or do anything else beside lounge in our beds and catch up on our TV shows. And while routines can be nice and familiar, it can get really boring, too.
And I’m bored of my routine. I’m ready for something to give and just change. Yeah, change happens around us all the time, but it does so slowly. I’m ready for something big to happen, so I’ve been mulling over different options. Should I dye my hair? Should I buy myself some new clothes that I wouldn’t normally wear? Should I join a group or a club, and make some new friends? The possibilities are endless.
In the end, I decided to start small and make this blog.
Growing up, I had journals I would write in everyday and they would usually consist of my day to day activities, any conversation or interaction I had with my crush at the time, and something Harry Potter related, I’m sure. My bookshelf is lined with these journals, so it’s really a surprise as to why I hadn’t started this blog from before because it’s apparent I love talking about my life and have too many feelings. This blog won’t necessarily be like a journal, however, but somewhere where my thoughts could lie.
I’m hoping that with this, I can start to find the change that I’ve been looking for. And without getting too deep, maybe even have a better understanding of who I am, and where I’m meant to go down the line. I’m turning 24 next month, and I have internal panic attacks every time I think about it. Growing up is scary and it’s happening all too fast, but maybe that’s the change I need. After all, change is all about getting out of your comfort zone and doing something you normally wouldn’t. Starting this blog is definitely that.
As Cheryl Strayed once wrote, “It isn’t too late. Time is not running out. Your life is here and now, and the moment has arrived at which you’re finally ready to change.”
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