When I Die

I remember reading about “rouge” as a cosmetic. People use to die young of consumption, what we call tuberculosis. One symptom was that their cheeks would be unusually read. It was considered «tres romantique» to die of comsumption, so poetic, so tragic, at a young age. And so rouge became the fashion. It got me wondering, how much of the anorexic model syndrome is due to the tragedy of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome? Now, if you die past age thirty-five, it is not so romantic. That is probably the expiry date in countries such as Afghanistan. It is hard to make a big thing out of it. Unless it is very tragic and involves heroism. This is brutal writing, and probably offends you in your situation, but it is how I constantly think. I have felt death creeping upon me more than once, however I would express it in medical terms, and so have you. I don’t want to get into details. So, the question is, do we make the most of what is given? The tragedy would be not to have asked that question.

I remember a death, that she said “I want my four boys around me.” It didn’t happen. At that moment, there were only medical personnel. But if you are aware, your attention is probably completely on the Infinite, Absolute. All I can consider at this moment is that I should live so that whether I die definitively, or simply fall asleep for a while to get up again, I should live so that I don’t carry real hard regrets. Sleeping every night involves letting go of things, somewhat in the same sense of abandonment as dying.