The awful thought still follows me,
That even kings can die.
Being a liberal, I didn't believe in absolutes; the colour of life through my periscope was gray. And then, I grew up and realized that there had to be some absolutes, that the colour of some issues was distinctly black or white, no in-betweens.
The miracle of life, from conception to birth, is one such absolute. It's birth's antithesis that has motivated this post - Death. Growing up, I learnt that death wasn't something to fear but to embrace because it provided a passage to the next life. Strange then that this spiritual fact didn't quite dull the pain I experienced when someone close to me "passed" away. Grudgingly, I accepted death as an inevitability.
In the past couple months, my family has lost two stalwarts - my maternal grandfather passed away last month and my paternal grandmother passed away this morning. The generational shift has begun - all my grandparents are now in the "Happy Hunting Grounds" while my aunts and uncles are starting to don the role of grandparents. I didn't even realize that this shift was in progress - the sands drifted while I was looking the other way. I feel neither armed nor ready to embrace this change, I am still grieving the losses of my dear ones. Grudgingly, I must play catch up and accept my new role in the grander scheme of things. "Wither can I fly?"
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