People die, heroes live on
By Priyanka Singh

"What is life if not a bed of thorns
Now you’re blest to be alive,
And now you wish you weren’t even born".

A NEWS report on cancer survivors set me thinking how one word could make your whole life seem like it never was, making it come apart around you; in one cruel stroke blowing up your dreams in a thousand little pieces, too infinitesimally small to matter any more.

Most of us see life as a straight line. We know the end will come, but like to believe it is distant and would happen at some later point on the line. As we grow old, that point simply keeps shifting farther away. It’s not easy to reconcile to the idea of death. That’s what gives purpose to our actions, a reason to happily build our own little world with care.

But I imagine to those who have come awfully close to death, life looks like a restricting circle. Life and death on the same curve seem so dangerously close that it nearly quenches the desire for everything, except perhaps for life itself.

All of us fight our little, insignificant battles everyday, but there are some who are fighting a battle of much consequence — a battle for life. Some fortunate ones have triumphed while certain others are desperately hoping for a miracle to happen. Hoping they would live long enough to see their little ones settled, to realise their dreams, to do all the things they wanted to with their lives, always thinking there would be time enough for it later. But sadly for them, later is now. Now is all they have; too short a time to make up for the wasted hours. Some must be wanting to give up, their spirits deserting them, but the will to live is stronger. It’s hard to give up just yet. In that sense, I wonder if one is ever really ready for death.

I remember reading a touching true story that appeared in a 1989 issue of the Reader’s Digest. It was later made into an English film of the same title.

It was a story about the grief a young couple undergo when they learn that their nine-year-old haemophilic son has, during a routine transfusion, been infected with HIV+ve blood. They are crestfallen when they think he would be around to see only one each of every season. One summer, one autumn, one Christmas.

However, after the initial shock, they pull themselves together and decide to give their son the happiness of a lifetime in that one brief year.They prepare a dream-list for him and fly him to Disneyland, a place he had always dreamt of visiting. They do everything they can to make his little dreams a reality. And as the final moments draw close, they do the one thing they dreaded. They prepare him for death— a painful task all parents pray they’d never have to do. It’s destroying to see your child go before you. It seems so unjust, so unnatural.

A priest once sent a few comforting lines to the parents of Lillian Mary Lopez, who died at a tender age of 12. They went on like this:

"I’ll lend you for a little time.
A child of mine", He (God) said.
"For you to love the while she lives
And mourn for when she’s dead
It may be six or seven years, or
Twenty two or three.
But will you, till I call her back,
Take care of her for me?
She’ll bring her charms to gladden you,
And should her stay be brief,
You’ll have her loving memories
As solace to your grief.
I cannot promise she will stay,
Since all from earth return,
But there are lessons taught down there
I want this child to learn.
I’ve looked this wide world over
In my search for teachers true
And from the crowds that throng
Life’s lanes I have selected you.
Now will you give her all your love
Nor think the labour vain,
Nor hate Me when I come to call
And take her back again?"
I fancied that I heard them (the parents) say,
"Dear lord, Thy will be done.
For all the joy Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we’ll run.
We’ll shelter her with tenderness,
We’ll love her while we may,
And for the happiness we’ve
Known forever grateful stay.
But should you have to call for her,
Much sooner than we’d planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that
Comes, and try to understand."

All times have had their heroes. People who died so others may live, or for a cause they firmly believed in. It’s said we can’t all be heroes. Someone has to sit on the pavement and clap as they go by. But those men, women and children who’ve emerged victorious in their fight for life, are all heroes. So are those who couldn’t, for they endured much pain and suffering— the kind most people don’t get to experience in one lifetime. People die, but it’s the hero in them that lives on.

Even though there is no consolation for an untimely death, what eventually matters is not how you die, but how you live. Samuel Johnson had said: " The act of dying is not important, it lasts so short a time". A few happy years are better than an entire life of agony and grind. It’s how you are remembered; how you live on in people’s hearts after you are gone that accounts for your achievement as a human being.

Some people have the gift of making good times unforgettable and bad times bearable. The best thing you can give someone is good memories and therein lies your final victory.