Ruthless Death

It all feels so unreal. That is the thing about death, right? Each second we are hoping that someone wakes us up from this dreadful dream. That we get another shot, another chance, a redemption. But death is ruthless. It has the last word and only leaves you wishing and regretting all things that were left unsaid and undone.

Even while I am here, it still hasn’t sunk in that you are no more. It still feels as if you have gone out and will probably come in a while. I can’t even fathom how your parents are coping with it. For now, we are all here, they are surrounded by people, but the real dawning comes upon when everyone has left, and they are left alone with their thoughts. Left alone to comprehend the minutest details that may possibly have averted this tragedy.

Frankly, I haven’t yet cried over you. That’s probably because I don’t have a closure over your death. It was the same when I heard the news of Safwan first, but that changed when I saw him in the mortuary. I broke down as it dawned upon me what losing someone to death means. In your case, while I am here, talking to people about you, about what you were, the things that you did and the likes of it, it feels like I am just having a normal conversation with people who know you, about you. It doesn’t feel that the whole discussion is centered on your death.

Occasionally my mind does get a grip on the fact that you are in fact dead, but it just feels so outrageous that I stop thinking about it. Your face is still etched in my memory, and that keeps coming back to the surface, the things you said, the way you’d talk, our discussion at the barbeque, you sitting outside on the porch and us talking. I wish I had had a proper conversation with you that day. I knew that you were troubled, and you didn’t want to speak when I asked you, so I didn’t want to push it. I let the matter go thinking that I will probably speak to you next time. But like I said, that is the thing with death, there is no next time, there are only regrets.

I still can’t believe it Muja. I wonder where you are right now, what is the state of your mind. Is it true what they speak about graves? I can’t believe or even digest that you are now buried underneath, never to be seen, heard or felt. I can’t believe that in less than a day you have been obliterated from all our lives, that all that I am feeling regarding you right now I will never be able to express to you in person. When people are praying to god for you, asking him to render your grave comfortable, pardon your sins, or admit you into the heavens, it is hard to process in the mind that they are in fact speaking about you. It simply feels so incredulous.

Is there any sense in asking you to put an end to this misery and come back? Ruthless death doesn’t even leave a room for prayers.