The boy had just lost his father. Sobbing with eyes too proud for tears, he held onto the widow. Tucking her head under his chin, he closed his eyes, perhaps paying the first visit to this new graveyard. They stood alone in the chaos of the emergency room, each in a different world of grief. And I wonder standing here.
Where was that exact moment when he was and suddenly he wasn’t?
Is it that abrupt? Is it that absolute?
There is a last breath; yes, with a static heart. But that is not where we step into the underworld, anxiously glancing at that expensive watch waiting for the ferryman. It is at this time that resuscitation pumps the heart from outside. So you should make a point of encouraging those around you to go to the gym once in a while and learn CPR. Who knows they might be the muscles that keep your heart beating (no pun intended.)
By this time his heart could have caught up and started pumping blood on its own again. But it didn’t, pronouncing him legally dead after all efforts failed. Yet again I wonder is this where he left his wife and son with the echoes of his loss?
The definition of all the aspects and processes of death involve a single most important word ‘irreversible.’ Everything that happens now is irreversible.
His soma ceased to be. There was life yet, in the millions of cells and the molecules fueling them that made up his body. Ever so slowly, like a hesitant drop falling off a closed faucet, each of them died one by one in two hours or three. The news had reached the embraced pair long before that miniscule warmth left his last cell. Once the whole body gave up there was little those cells that glued together to form him could do, except use what was left and die. Is this where the angels of death took him away? Or was it somewhere in between?
I wonder standing here. Where did he die for them? Or has he yet? Will he ever?
I wonder standing here. Where will mine give up on me?
It is all relative you see, for them, for me, for a stranger, for every individual.
Absolute does not exist.