Last month my adopted grandmother passed away. Yesterday, a friend informed us that our long time neighbour, whose children I grew up with was rushed to the hospital. She died later that night. A loved one lost a grandparent just a few days ago, before her passing the old lady stayed in their Parañaque home. Possibly to be with them one last time.
A few weeks ago my friend, distant kin and mentor, lost her daughter in Bacolod to cancer after courageously battling the disease for the last two years. Then last Sunday, one of my favorite writers, the National Artist Edith Tiempo, was pronounced dead in Dumaguete’s Silliman Hospital. She died on the day that mark’s the 110th founding of her beloved alma mater, the Silliman University.
Deaths of people we know, whether they’re close to us or not, reminds us of life. How brittle and short it is. Death reminds us of what truthfully matters in this world. It makes us understand that it is not about time, how long we lived, how much wealth we acquired or how popular one became. A good life is all about love and giving. The intrinsic goodness and contribution we willingly share with people around us without asking for anything in return.
This can not be quantified.
Physical death is the termination of this visible life but life, in another form, continues. I believe this. And if one unfairly suffered greatly in this world, there must be a better place after all the suffering ends.
Dómine et lux perpétua lúceat eis…