Letter to my son: I Will Handle Seeing You Dead.
I Can’t Handle Seeing You Dying.
Theoretically I won’t be alive when you will die.
I hope I won’t be asked to face you lying cold and breathless in a coffin.
But it is still possible.
I am trying to accept this possibility and become friend with this idea.
People in history have died for freedom, injustice, for saving another people’s life, for dreaming another way of living, thinking etc.
People have put themselves in such “deadly” accidents voluntarily.
I always admired them for their courage.
If it is meant to see you die, I would love to see dying at a moment driven by something bigger, surrendered to a calling, self-exposed.
I would like to see you die at that exact moment. So that you pass to the next level of living from that level, with this moment as ticket at hands, at this peek state of living as your greatest milestone.
I would like to see you die with the smile of reaching absolute sacrifice and full giving when you leave your last breath.
So that you the moment of death has become a moment of absolute life, absolute happiness.