My first encounter with death was at the age of five. I was playing with my toys. It was a tremendous battle. One of them shot a bolt of lightning to another and killed him. As my height was not enough to reach the window, I just threw the dead toy through it. I threw it to the unknown and I never knew anything else about that toy. I remember asking for company to my mother to go downstairs to find it, probably because toys do come back to life. By the time I arrived to the garden it was not there anymore. So it stopped existing. It fell to that dimension that we all know, but we barely understand. That dimension of opposition and contrast.
There is a mental list that I keep with all those episodes. I remember clearly when my grandmother passed away. I can still see her when I close my eyes and I can rekindle all those feelings and emotions when I think about her and that dramatic day. I didn’t wish to have that list. It’s just there and I can’t avoid having it. I wonder why I must remember all those moments. It must be their intensity and power to vanquish my soul. They have certain crudity and a surplus of shivers that run down to my stomach whenever I think about them.
Living is swimming in a lagoon full of darkness looking for some light. Whenever I reach a spot of clear waters, I bump into tons of images of trembling moments and move them immediately to the list. I also see redemption. Ironically enough, darkness brings tranquility, because the list stays intact. As of yesterday, I have a new set of images to add to the list. I wish to trick my brain and avoid that clear spot, but as Dory said, I have to “keep swimming, keep swimming”. Keep swimming means to live and not to be eaten by a giant fish, as simple as that. It also means to move on until I find my spot of eternal light. That spot which will be the last item of my list, hopefully with ‘meaning’ and just ‘natural causes’ replacing that big fish.
Darkness brings tranquility, but does it bring peace? I wonder what kind of fish ate you. I wonder also how deep you were swimming that you suddenly stopped being blind and found your spot of light, your own meaning. Perhaps your swimming style was not what one can consider a traditional one, or as people say: “the brave choice”. It takes a lot of courage to conquer the instinct of self-survival, doesn’t it? I am going to keep wondering for some time. I am going to try to find the hows and whys, probably without any success. I will keep wondering about which deep thoughts made you swim in that direction. I still tell myself, the mysteries of that labyrinth we proudly call soul aren’t that intricate, right?
How are you? Are you fine? I believe the last time I asked one of those questions was today, as I do almost every day. It is however sad that we keep asking those questions, but they are empty, as their answers are. Either there is no trust at all or the links between us are just becoming software code, full of words that mean nothing. We are sometimes so fucking far…
Anyway, wherever you have gone, I wish you good luck and farewell.
to C.S.
May you rest in peace.
