The Life’s Play
My mother talks about death very often.
Often wondering about what happens after we no longer are a part of the this community.
What happens to their souls?
Do they wander waiting to be called back?
Do they stay to see who cries for them?
All these questions sends a shiver down my spine making goose bumps prickle on my skin.
She often talks about what should we do after she dies. Tells us to donate her eyes after she passes away and that her donars card is somewhere in her wallet.
She tells us to do a thousand other things which we ignore. Because we obviously don’t want to listen about it.
But she’s so fascinated by death that I often wonder about me dying and quizzing myself what will she remember about me? What will she tell herself and others, what kind of daughter I was? I often wonder then, what kind of daughter I am to always defy and follow my heart and guts like a parallel line.
I wonder if I should change. But, I know I wouldn’t like the changed me. Then will I die full of regrets. Will my mother know about it? Will she be happy knowing that I didn’t do what I wanted to do? Or she’ll never know about it at all.
But, we’ve got this one life to live and we’ve no idea when death surprises us.
We will never be ready for it.
Never be satisfied with the life we live.
Never ready to leave.
Never ready to accept that it has happened.
That we are done with our part in the play.
That the play will go on, without you.
image from pinterest
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