I regularly attend memorial services, at least once a month. As friends and family slowly pass away, I deeply understand my mother's lament before she passed away: "There's no one left to talk to!"
Not long ago, a close friend died of a heart attack while jogging. A month ago, a friend I hadn't seen in years, with whom I had just had a Lunar New Year dinner, also passed away. Her husband, upon discovering the loss of his beloved partner early in the morning, was heartbroken. Both deceased were in their 50s.
In the silence of a memorial service, when the reality of life's end looms before us, we often hear the deepest voices of our hearts. In the atmosphere of remembrance, time seems to slow down, allowing us to contemplate death and reevaluate our lives. The resentments, the entanglements over gains and losses, the lingering resentment towards loved ones and family suddenly lose weight in the face of death. Everything becomes empty. Death teaches us how to live better.
I often see people on social media saying, "In the end, you'll leave alone!" This seemingly negative attitude actually reflects that after your parents, spouse, and family leave, and your children are no longer around, you're the only one left to grapple with life. Are those who stay the last the happiest? Or are those who say goodbye first, without having to witness the loneliness of their loved ones, the luckiest?
The finiteness of life is a recurring reminder that every day is a unique gift. Every day we breathe is a starting point for a new choice of how to live.
Further reading
Some of my friends are much older than me, some have children and grandchildren, some are single, some are widowed, and they're living active retirement lives, filling their days with activities and making the most of their remaining days. Love must be brave, and live authentically. Live infinity within the finite, and find constancy amidst the impermanent.
