It seems that I have been writing a lot of obituaries lately. for reasons I do not know, I am writing another one tonight.
A former colleague of mine from China died two days ago. She took her life. Her name was Bernadette. She once told me that she would never resort to ending her life because it was the easy way out of an existential bind. She told me that suffering has a purpose in the vicissitudes of living. Two days ago, she took her own life.
I never liked Bernadette. I got along with her at best. But after working for six years with her, I have learned to respect the woman. She had a rough life and I could actually see it in the lines of her face. I guess that's the reason why I learned to respect her. A person having been through a lot deserves respect. She was a lonely and bitter person and she always made it manifest. She wore them like a summer hat and a summer dress.
There were two things that Bernadette and I agreed on - books and jazz. Her books were her constant companion. I would sometimes pass by her flat after my evening runs and I would see her window with her lamp dimly lit and she would be there either shuffling about or most likely reading yet another book. On good days (there weren't that many), we would swap books and then we would either laud the author or trash him. We both agreed that Dan Brown was a good bathroom read. She encouraged me to read Chomsky and I ended up liking it. Jazz was the only music for her. She was even surprised to learn that I knew Monk and Coltrane (being from the Philippines and all). She loved jazz as much as she loved her books. The chaos of the music somehow appealed to her as it did to me.
She took her life two days ago. How broken she was, nobody will ever know; but somehow, a part of me understands why she did it. Life may bring out the best in us but sometimes it can also leave us bereft of anything to be happy or hopeful for.
I will try to remember her in her best moments. The nights when I would pass by her flat coming back from my evening runs, I would see a silhouette of her by her window, curled up in her sofa, engrossed in the universe of the page she is reading.
proves that "a person who takes their own Lives are seLfish and weak in spirit" is not aLL true if not a myth.. yet on the contrary most of the peopLe of chooses to end their Lives are the ones who are seLfLess enough toiLing to pLow a barren Land caLLed Life then at the end pLant a bitter seed of tragedy..that Lot might see fooLish & a waste,which Later grows into a tree having a trunk & branches of tough, hard Lessons..countLess Lush Leaves that provides comfort & serenity then bear fruit of the sweetest fruits of memories, for those who were Left, by the ones strong in spirit enough to have the courage & wiLL to venture to another Land regardLess not knowing whether it wiLL be verdant meadows, stiLL barren wasteLands or worse for they're the ones who have the bravery to keep moving forward.
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