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On Death
It was very late at night. I went to bed after reading Dismal Trade of Undertaking by Thomas Lynch. As I was about to fall into sleep, I heard a helicopter taking off. I have heard them too often. In fact, I can see the red lights on their parking spots from my window. But tonight it sounded so much louder. What happened to him/her? Will he/she be able to make it to the hospital? Who knows he/she will not pass from IS to WAS at this cool autumn night? I had never asked these questions before. In "setting the features", Mr. Lynch wrote, "These are the features - eyes and mouth - that will never look the way they would have looked in life when they were always opening, closing, focusing, signaling, telling us something. In death, what they tell us is that they will not be doing anything anymore." And the hands, "They will not be doing anything any more, either." Besides this image of the dead and the sound of the helicopter, there were many thoughts flicking on the brink of unconsciousness. I struggled to get up, but only caught one of them: If nothing can
be ensured or guaranteed for this life, I should be grateful for everyday I
am alive while my eyes can look, my mouth can speak and my hands can do
things. And I'd better use each of such days wisely and carefully. |
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