Dear Zonk,

I went for a funeral today, and I’d gone for another one about a month ago. One was for a friend’s grandmother, the other for C’s grandfather. Both of them had lived long lives, both had been sick and suffering for a while, and both their deaths were expected.

And yet, both funerals were heart breaking.

I guess it’s because expecting a loss doesn’t make it any easier to bear. Life does not prepare you for Death.

But if we can’t prepare for the one, we might as well make the most of the other.

Wait But Why published this article two days ago. It’s one of the shortest articles on the blog, and also one of the most hard hitting. It breaks life down into years, weeks, days, number of pizzas to be consumed, number of days you have left with your parents, and so on. You get to see mundane things laid out as a bunch of boxes. You get to see how many you’ve ticked off. You have no choice but to think about all the Life you’ve burned through already, and how little you have left of most things you take for granted.

Read it, Zonk. I suppose we could all take the time out to think of all the things we should be doing and all the people we’ve been ignoring and all the conversations we’ve been putting off. Go home early tomorrow. Eat slowly. Say I love you to someone. Don’t be checking your notifications while you’re at it. Call your mom if you haven’t already.
Because, you know, life is finite. There will be a last for every one of these things.

We’re just wired not to think this way.




Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

2 thoughts on “Finite”

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