A Conversation with Thanatos
Death is a shadow that follows us our entire lives. When we try to turn our backs and look it right in the eye, it disappears. I used to be of the belief that this disappearance was due to the sheer incomprehensible nature of death. Like a being that exists within a higher dimension, we simply could not comprehend it. However, upon further inspection, I have come to realize that this line of thinking has all been a ruse of my own making.
As I type this piece and think very clearly about death, I can feel my heart pound. The shadow of death seems to dissipate not because it chooses to but because we force it to hide. This is all a round-about way of admitting that my previously held notion of being okay with the concept of death was itself a mechanism to cope with the knowledge that death exists and my fear of it.
Over the past few days, I have had the pleasure to spend precious moments with grandparents on both my parents’ sides of the family. The trip from New York to Jakarta with my grandma was a long one. She knocked over four different beverages within the first half hour of the trip. She then proceeded to spout of all sorts of strange complaints - some warranted and some just displaying a lack of awareness and appreciation. You, the reader, may now be judging me for saying these things. So many have lost loved ones to the inevitable forces of this world, of time and death. How dare I say such things? Herein lies the first problem of death, and it’s close but not always present companion, aging.
To say that my grandmother has been a tough person to deal with, would be the understatement of the century. She would admit as much, if not more. Most people get to know they’re grandparents only when they are in their more advanced years of life. I have only known my grandma as an “old person”. I have to go off her stories and, second and third hand accounts of her life before I met her to paint the picture of who she was in her life.
It becomes hard to discern the source of one’s frustrations with the elderly because the scars of life and the deterioration of the aging process become intertwined. Do your lungs hurt because they are decaying or because of a lifetime of substance abuse? Do your eyes wane because of hereditary causes or is it due to a lifetime of hard work at a desk? The lines become blurred and all the frustrations you used to take for granted become reminders of the finite nature of not only our existence but also our faculties.
As of this writing, I am not sure what frightens me more - is it death or is it decay?
This past year, I have suffered several sports-related injuries and other ailments. I sprained my MCL once, hamstring twice, and groin once. My body gave up on me a few times due to wear and tear at work, and overall stress.
I came across this article that discussed how Lionel Messi has evolved his style of play to match his declining physical limits, whereas Cristiano Ronaldo had continued to attempt to play like his former youthful self despite his own similar decline in pace and power. I won’t comment further on whether the observations held in this article are true or not as I know myself, what a dreadful feeling it is to have your body betray you as an athlete (at any level). But the overall point about adjusting to aging is well made.
Perhaps, in this manner, athletes of all levels get an early taste of what aging is like. I am 25 and will never be as fast or as strong as I used to be. I used to sprint the length of the pitch as fast as anyone else and be able to bench press 100 pound dumbbells in each hand. I also used to eat 4000 calories a day…but that was when I was playing rugby!
Digressions aside, those who partake in any sport, begin to learn two truths very quickly.
The often quoted “use it or lose it”, should more accurately be refined to “use or lose it, while you still can”.
The body cannot keep up with our ambitions and that is ok.
Which leads to the second truth, that despite the losing fight against time, the body in tandem with the mind can keep up with our ambitions (for the most part). If you can’t run as fast then you need to pass the ball more. If you can’t shoot as hard then you need to learn to position yourself for the easy goal. So on and forth.
Last night, I lay next to my other grandma (Oma) on her couch. She can’t hear very well so talking is difficult. Although, I am not sure what we would talk about anyways. Her memory has faded a little as well but she can still recall the important things and hold her own in a game of bridge — a game that I never play during family events for fear of losing and stoking my competitive nature in an otherwise pleasant environment.
Upon entering her house, the smell of her and my now deceased grandfather (Opa) permeate the walls. Like Sephora or Abercrombie & Fitch but filled with the odors of old people and nostalgia.
My grandfather passed away when I was in college. During his last moments, I was wrapping up my spring semester of my Junior year. I got the news the next morning that he had passed and I can still vividly picture the cherry blossoms in Washington, DC. They seemed so cruel. Mocking me. They return every season with grace and elegance and yet my grandfather would not be coming back.
In his last hours, I was intoxicated. Not related to his passing but by pure coincidence as we had an end of semester party that evening. With the time difference and that moment in life, I would not have had any clue as to what had been happening in Jakarta but I still I feel like I can’t forgive myself. Had I known, I would’ve called and stayed on the line till the very end while trying to book the next flight back home.
I couldn’t drink alcohol very much for a long time after that day and still really can’t. It no longer brings me the same joy I used to have. I want to be present for the good and the bad.
I can still remember when I last saw him in Jakarta earlier that year. His last hug was more firm than his others. Maybe he knew it would be our last.
And now I am left feeling the same way with my Oma. Every time I have visited since, I wonder if this is the last time I will see her. The knowledge of death has caused for a sobering stench to surround us all. My parents and their siblings now talk so openly about the death of their parents and their own departures from this world. It has been all too much for me to take in but this is life and that is growing up. On the other side of the same coin that age resides on is growth. With the passing of time and life, comes the passing of knowledge and experience.
As I lay next to Oma last night, I couldn’t help but curl into a ball and lay in the fetal position next to her on the couch. She sit there, idle, with her hand on my head, massaging my hair. In that moment, I was overcome with death, life, love, and loss. I couldn’t say anything. With my eyes closed, all our memories flashed in front of me. Playing golf. Eating food at her house. Watching Chelsea (her favourite team). And every other moment. All swirling and becoming both incredibly distinct and nondescript at the same time. Our lives and our memories together, forming a river that represent the constant flow and motion of the human experience.
In a strange way, the end and the beginning are quite similar. We enter this world, aware but unable to process the stimuli around us. Living only in the present with no concept of the future or past. I am not traditionally religious but I am spiritual. I do believe that something is out there but I have yet to dedicate enough time to explore this within myself and throughout the world to further develop my faith. So for me to prognosticate about what happens after our physical life is hard to say. And I won’t bother trying right now. That’s not the point. Whether the doors of death lead to oblivion or something else is not what I am afraid of. I am terrified of the door itself. What the journey there will do my mind, body, and soul, and how I will feel upon knocking and having to look back at the life I have left behind. What is it that I will feel? Will I feel anything?
I won’t know until I get there. But I do know that I want to feel now.
