Have you ever stopped in your life to ask what awaits us when we die? No? Well, for me, this question always comes to my mind, whether this is normal for a young adult or not, it makes no difference. The point here is that I now know the answer, and I discovered it in a rather interesting way.
When I was 11 years old, I attended my grandfather's funeral. The day my parents gave me the news, I was shaken, because he was always a great figure to follow by example, be it his way of thinking, acting, expressing himself or simply when he sat in his chair, and smoked. his straw cigarette that he made himself.
On the day of farewell, I cried like never before, enough to wash my body, and it wasn't just my body that was washed by tears, but something else, which I would miss in the future.
After that, things didn't get normal, at least for me. I always asked why my grandfather died, my mother always told me that good people live long and have a great life, so if she was right, why did he have to leave?
Years passed, and this question, which for many may seem futile and even banal, had been circulating in my mind for a long time. Time passed, my family was leaving me alone in the realm of the living, when they left for the realm of the dead. As time passed, and I interacted with the world and the people who lived in it, this question came back to haunt me, but, now, the question changed, no, it would be better to say that it became another one, "the Is death the end, the beginning, the middle or simply a guide?"
I've had 27 years to think about this question, just to come to a conclusion, I'll never know the answer. I am not God, much less death. Only they could answer my question, when I conclude this, maybe it's an irony of fate, it was a few hours from my death, in a sudden way by the way. And, I say again that life... better... Death is indeed interesting.