What exactly should be the result of our existence? Why live at all and not die right away?… We don’t visit graves for the dead. But for the one, they are alive. For ourselves. We want to uphold tradition. The one that promises us that someone will lay a flower on our grave once a year. Because we’re not afraid of death, but of being forgotten. That no one will remember us after death. And we will really die. By going to the grave, we borrow time from our deceased. It’s selfish, but at their monuments, we pray for ourselves.
We think of ourselves. We see ourselves at the wake. And we don’t want to die. We imagine that someday, someone will pray over our graves exactly like this. That we won’t be forgotten. Memories of the dead are useless to them. We remember them for ourselves. So that we can also feel immortal. We can pray over the graves of the dead a million times, they won’t hear it. We will hear it, and those around us. We want and need to hear it. That’s why we will pray very loudly at funerals. It’s also a tradition as to eat the same dumplings from the same bowl as our father. We sing the same songs that our grandfather sang in the garden. And all this out of fear of being forgotten. As if it extended our afterlife. What will continue in our children or deeds. In what we leave behind. We satisfy ourselves with this illusion and try to pretend so that no one notices. Subliminally, we instill our rules into our children, trying to mold them in our image every day. To clone ourselves. To find our character traits in them and to force them over and over again, just so someone says, “your son is just like you.” With those words, our lips slightly round, and we can go light a cigarette in honor of victory and revel in our own immortality.
We can easily replace children with a book, a painting, a garden, instagram, naming a street after us, or an invention that helps many people. Thoughts of them are anesthetics that we inject into our veins in doses. We hope that at the moment of death, we will be sufficiently anesthetized by them so that it won’t hurt. We really can’t live forever, but each of us can create something that will. Maybe we think of ourselves as the dumbest, most desperate, and most useless creature on the planet, but let’s not forget that we were born an original and have something that no one else on this planet has. Our personality. That great and often unexplored encyclopedia. We should read it all and at the end, we will know what the theme of the work is. Perhaps we already read this encyclopedia and pick an idea from the theme. We live it, we leave a mark behind. Maybe we just need to realize this. That’s the whole point of our existence.
Cemeteries don’t make us immortal. It’s our deeds and actions. Their nonexistence forces us to get up every morning and believe that on this day, we will perform such a significant and memorable act. It won’t be the eightieth dress in our closet or overtaking the entire column on the road. It must be an act that will make us immortal. Have we done such a thing? If yes, we can die even right away…
Every day we wake up scared of life, and the thought of death, on the other hand, calms us down. Isn’t it then precisely life that we fear so much? Death doesn’t hurt. Life does. So what are we afraid of, then? That we’ll score an own goal? That we’ll lose another match? And another one? Isn’t it amazing that the coach didn’t leave us on the bench but called us to play? We’re still leading the ball, we can shoot anytime. If we don’t shoot, the goal won’t be scored. Who will know at the end of our lives that for the one goal we scored, winning the match one-nil, we needed hundreds of shots? The only thing that matters is always the name of the player who scored. We may be listed among the scorers, or the match ends in a draw, and no one will ever remember it. That we don’t have enough time? As long as we’re alive, we have time. We should lie down in the coffin juice-squeezed by life. And leave that juice for our loved ones, for society. Anyone who’s afraid to die has long been dead. Death spares no one. After death, it will be exactly what we experienced before we lived. That you don’t remember? Oops…
Our physical life will truly end with death. But our personality, soul, name, deeds can become immortal. They will continue to be passed on in books and in the minds of those we inspired or motivated. They could be our children, students, strangers. We just need to give them a reason to carve out a little space for us in their precious minds. There’s neither heaven nor hell. At least not in this world. So why not remain alive after death in this world too?
We’ll die just as when our liver cell dies. Have you ever thought about it? And what if we’re like that liver cell to our God? Just existing in a slightly differently functioning universe. Over 100 billion people have died to this day. Most of them are not missed by anyone today. We know a few of them. Famous scientists, artists, writers… How many of us will remember our great-grandparents today? They practically didn’t exist. They would have been forever forgotten if it weren’t for us. You. We’re carriers of their stubbornness, thanks to which we built a successful company, provided jobs for dozens of people, and made a new packaging used by millions. Maybe they were teachers, doctors, pastors. But many of their character traits have been passed down through the centuries. Based on them, we make decisions.
Some people around us hurt, others make us happy. It should be our duty to preserve as much mental wealth within ourselves as possible, which will benefit our children, our environment. Even if we won’t be here anymore. If we have children or want to have them, we can work on ourselves and pass on moral values, mental heritage to them. To multiply and nurture it throughout life. Not by force. But to inspire and motivate our children. So that one day they become like us. In them and their children, we’ll be immortal. If not children, then our world is still very imperfect and vast. There are still many imperfections and gaps in it. We can fill them with our presence. They’re like cracks in a house. We can repair and seal them ourselves. Or we can motivate someone else to do it.
Our lineage lasts maybe hundreds of years, even thousands. We are the culmination of all the efforts of our ancestors. Don’t you feel chosen? What an honor has been bestowed upon you. It’s really precious, if we just hand over that energy and time. To all our ancestors and especially to ourselves. To congratulate ourselves for being here. Even this is a huge motivation in itself. Not to be the one to break this thread. It’s been unraveling for so many years, or centuries. Weaving a beautiful shawl, and we’re one of its rows. Even ours will end, but a new one can start over it. So what color and pattern will it be?