When Breath Becomes Air

2022-07-30

"I muse often of his being and his departure, missing the softness of his glance. He’d looked at me with happiness, as if my presence itself was good news." So much about life is to know about death. In its very concept lies life’s only immutable truth. As our days drift into countable numbers, we can either lean into the reality and wait, or fight the Dylanian battle of “not going gentle into the dark night”. But ever so often, there is no option. We become fo...

"I muse often of his being and his departure,

missing the softness of his glance.

He’d looked at me with happiness,

as if my presence itself

was good news."

So much about life is to know about death. In its very concept lies life’s only immutable truth.

As our days drift into countable numbers, we can either lean into the reality and wait, or fight the Dylanian battle of “not going gentle into the dark night”. But ever so often, there is no option. We become fortune’s arbitrary choice. We can only hope for painless exits. But regardless of what happens to us, death leaves behind a form of spiritual debris - the ones who loved both our silence and our chaos.

What is it, to be still alive when someone you love no longer is? What are the stories which now remain silenced? What are the changes we would have wrought in each other’s lives? Because relationships are forever budding, always a passage to something new, always gravitating to the other with new cells, if not new eyes.

So much of what we lose, when someone dies, has to do with things we were not always aware we cared for. The loss is greater for that late realisation.

So it comes back to our present with the ones we love. The only thing we can give - or receive - is companionship, presence.

On Sundays, as I sit at my desk, finishing my editing or writing my newsletter, I see my dad silently stand at the door and look at me. When I catch his glance, he smiles happily, and walks back to his room.

As our needs leave the bastion of greed, our simplest desires are enough for a comfortable easement into serenity. The ticking bomb of our mind finally finds a resting place

There’s something to be said about easing into death with equanimity. Everything falls by the wayside, only space and light remain. And in that peace, even the people we leave behind find their reconciliations. The drift stops. The breath which ceases finds a new breath to breathe. Life finds fresh renewals. Death finds a new life.

If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems on being alive to death -

What Do I Leave Behind
An Epitaph Made of Light & Air
I Love You

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Get in touch with me on uncutpoetrynow@gmail.com

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The details of the music used in this episode are as follows -

Music: Lonesome by Sascha Ende
Free download: https://filmmusic.io/song/51-lonesome
License (CC BY 4.0): https://filmmusic.io/standard-license
Artist website: https://www.sascha-ende.de

Music: Gracias by Sascha Ende
Free download: https://filmmusic.io/song/260-gracias
License (CC BY 4.0): https://filmmusic.io/standard-license
Artist website: https://www.sascha-ende.de

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