I have been thinking lately, when I flutter down the rabbit hole of a quiet moment — when the sunlight is pouring like gold, warm like childhood, and no worries bite, when I am enfolded deep, deep into the wonders of being alive, when I lay curled up in the life that is falling and rising in my chest — in these stolen moments, the thought comes to my mind: that death should slip in through the open windows, past the fluttering curtains intertwined with afternoon light. Stealing through the air of tranquility, it should settle over me like sleep, like morning dew.
The end should happen when you are at home within yourself, reclining into moments, holding Life like a mug of tea, warm between your hands, and sipping from it.
Death should come then and sit by your side. You should die like you fall asleep: your breaths getting slower, deeper, your eyes fluttering, something in you yearning for rest.
It will feel like all the times your Dad carried you to bed after you fell asleep on the sofa. It will be warm and you will trust it without a thought, will lean into it like it is natural. It will feel like the summers you spent at the beach, hiding from the sun under a tree, until consciousness floated away, taken apart gently by the waves and sea breeze, and you awoke to a deserted scenery, people’s voices faraway, feeling like the only person on Earth.
I think Death should come not at a gruesome end, but rather during ordinary moments, as your gaze lingers a little too long on the deep green of curving curry leaves, as you bury your nose in clothes that are still on the line and inhale so deeply you can no longer breathe, as you grab a handful of pulses and feel them like pebbles under your touch. Death should come in contemplation and take your hand gently. And then the memory will bloom in you, a drop of ink on white paper…a memory that you have unconsciously chased all your life: that ‘death’ is something you lost at birth and all life long you wandered, lost, in search of it. And now, it is here to guide you home.
A long separation. A delayed reunion. A long journey back to the stars.