I think about death a lot.
Call me bizarre.
Not like in a paranoid I better be careful when crossing the street or I should get that carbon monoxide detector my mom sent installed as soon as possible in case my landlord wants us out of here. But in a, what happens if I don’t wake up tomorrow? or if I don’t do this now, will I regret it later? kinda way.
I don’t necessarily agree that living in the moment equals being reckless and careless in making decisions, but I enjoy life a lot by keeping my stress down and indulging. It’s about the simple joys.
I know we all come with an expiration date, and when we talk in class about neurogenic (orginating in the nerves or nervous system) chronic, progressive diseases that have a high prevalence the second you turn 65 years old I tend to do certain activities I enjoy very often.
I sleep a little later when I’m supposed to be studying.
I start a new blog post when I’m supposed to be writing a paper.
I tweet a thought that might be lost to oblivion.
I eat bacon and eggs for dinner.
I don’t feel bad about procrastination, because that means I enjoyed something in life instead of forced myself to do something I really didn’t want to.
This past week, I found out about this natural hair blogger who had a heart attack while giving birth. Her name was #Dawnyele. Her son is born healthy, and she leaves behind an 8 year old and a husband. I hadn’t heard of her before this tragedy. And yet, here I am reminded once again that once we leave this Earth, all that’s left is a stamp. On those who knew us, were touched by us, laid with us, cooked for us, read us, laughed with us, connected with us, reached out to us, held our hands and needed us in their life.
Reminds me of this quote I read in a book called Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri.
It had caused Ruma to acknowledge the supernatural in everyday life. But death, too, had the power to awe, she knew this now-that a human being could be alive for years and years, thinking and breathing and eating, full of a million worries and feelings and thoughts, taking up space in the world, and then, in an instant, become absent, invisible.
So what’s left once we are gone?
So, if this were my last post… I’m glad that words remain.