In 2012, I lost my brother; he would have been 11 and in Year 6 now. Every day I observe the Primary School during their lunchtimes as they chat and laugh and make silly faces. Some days I’m able to smile and enjoy their childhood naivety, but other days I have to tear my eyes away because I just cannot believe that my wonderful, loving brother is gone, never to come back to me.
My parents always tell me that I’ll meet him again someday, but…I don’t know how much I believe them. When I die, how will I know how to identify him. Will he remember me? Will we pick up where we left off?
What has become of him?
I don’t enjoy the concept of death because it’s so hard to understand. I mean, I’ve never died, so I can’t even begin to imagine what happens after death. What if Reuben’s just lying there in his grave, awake but unable to move? I’ve heard so many different perceptions of the idea of death and what happens after death, and I don’t think I can bear to hear another point of view. Is death sleep? Is death life? Is death just the end?
Also, since death is inevitable, what is the point of life? Why live if you are just bound to die? Why am I spending my Senior Year stressing about college if all of it is just going to end one day? I mean, when you think about it life doesn’t even sound fulfilling! You spend all your time working, studying, loving, growing – only for it to all end one day.
I don’t want to die because I want to experience the world, I want to be successful and I want to love and be loved. But at the same time…I don’t want to live.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way depressed, but life is so vulnerable and every day I live brings more of a risk to everything that I love being taken away from me. If it happened before, who says it can’t happen again?
Life is too risky and death is too final.
I’m torn between life and death.