Memento mori

by Meritxell Riera Prims

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Frances Conroy as the Angel of Death in American Horror Story: Asylum (2011).

Death or God are not the selfish ones: we are.

We cannot cope with the fact that we die at a certain time and we desperately hold on to life and those around us.

It’s only natural to cry and miss someone when they leave, but it’s not sensible or generous to deny Death when it comes. Not sensible because Death is part of living (just as getting old is), and we should learn to welcome it with peace and serenity, albeit sadness because we abandon life. 
Not generous because the selfishness and posessiveness that make us want to keep someone who’s about to depart by our side (or even ourselves) interferes with the process of mourning, which is necessary to leave this earthly world peacefully.

It should feel just as when you leave a place you’ve lived at for a long time, and people you’ve shared precious moments with.

We don’t have any rituals in our culture that celebrate Death in a natural and open way (or funnily, they’re all rituals that come from paganism). We live with our back turned to it, running forward to catch up with time, like Captain Hook running from the sound of the clock in the jaws of the crocodile.

Our culture is the culture of denial before Death. We should have a permanent reminder since childhood that prepared our spirit for that event. For Death is not the end, not even the worst of outcomes.

Just let the dying die.

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