Death is a fascinating phenomena. You may think that it is cold and colorless, on the contrary, its mere presence brings out life and emotions around it. If you ever observe death, you'd see life thriving around it. People are uncomfortable, they are in a rush to carry on with the mundane routine that now suddenly has an exotic quality, almost as though the routine is now a luxurious privilege. The urge to validate our own life; our own existence, increases manifolds. We cry, some laugh; we pity the latter, but to think death can have that hold on our emotions, the strength to wrench open our inner box and gush out everything inside us without self-control leaves me baffled.
Nothing spells finality like does death. That may explain why some people are afraid to look at a dead person while some cannot take their eyes off. Death is woven into every thread of the fabric of our lives and unavoidable; which is to say death is not the end of our lives, but a part of it. I understand now, why some people celebrate death, for it deserves as much acknowledgement as life.
Fearing the inevitable is futile; revelling in it not only brings peace, but helps us understand ourselves.
