The Irony Of Death

    Isn’t it ironic how something that fills so many with fear can fill so many with hope? How fascinating the concept of death is. I, for one, have been on both sides of the spectrum. You see, a few years ago, I hadn’t even thought about death. I simply existed without a care in the world. Then one day, like a lightning bolt, the news hit me. My father, the man that I had known my entire life, had suddenly vanished from my life. No longer would I be nagged about how short my skirt is or how much make up I’m wearing, and truthfully, I had always wished for. Now, ironically, I long for it.

My father’s death was a  wake-up call for me, telling me to get out of my own head, telling me that the world didn’t revolve around me and that the things I oh so cherish would be nothing when I die; that I will be nothing when I die. Suddenly, I found myself thinking about death every waking moment, breathing it, seeing it, obsessing over it; trying to fit all these big dreams into one life. Still, chasing the fast life only made my fear grow, and the rush it gave me had quickly died down.

Day after day, I swam in a sea of blood, tears and alcohol, barely managing to keep myself from drowning.

 What’s the point of living if we only die?

I asked myself this question over and over, as if waiting for someone to answer. I remember cursing God, asking him why he’d allow things like death and suffering to happen, that if he was more powerful than the devil, why didn’t he just simply, well…stop him? My world became dark blue, and I didn’t know how to escape. All my friends had already abandoned me, because who’d want such a downer in their life?

Then one day, when loneliness had near driven me to madness, I decided to turn to the one I knew would always be there. I got down on my knees and prayed, not by cursing nor asking for anything, but simply as if I was speaking to an old friend. Only then could I see how people had kept their faith intact even when they had an army of enemies behind them. It was because they had hope; hope that after all of this madness, their would be serenity, warmth, and freedom from a cruel world, as long as they just kept their faith. So, ironically, the very thing that had caused me to lose faith was the very same thing that made me a believer.


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