My brother-in-law woke me at three in the morning. Witnessing my mother’s cremation, watching her transform into ashes, was a brutal blow to reality. Each wave of grief felt like the first, a relentless assault.
It was a suffocating experience – my body trembling, tears streaming uncontrollably. The world felt hostile, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of helplessness. I yearned to lash out, to break things, but all my strength had vanished. I cried until exhaustion finally overtook me, and I drifted back to sleep around five or six.
Given all the data and introspection, can we ever truly control anything in this life? Our birth, our death, the fleeting moments with loved ones – these are largely beyond our grasp.
Ultimately, all that remains are our ashes and the profound relationships and memories we’ve forged. We may believe ourselves to be the drivers of our own destinies, but perhaps we are merely passengers on this journey?
LT. 2020
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