Deathbed Regrets

Life starts with a breath and ends with an exhale — and sometimes there is no chance to say goodbye. Most people aren’t afraid of the unknown, but afraid of letting go of the known: all that matters in the life they lived. There is no clock, but the eternal expanse of the universe gathered in a never-ending cord of cosmic happenstances, grouped into one — no past no future, just now as the picture is taken, the picture of a glowing collection.

And I imagine myself, stepping out of my door onto the porch I always said I’d get, overlooking trees drowned in raindrops and fog, a dull landscape smelling of earthy mud and overflowing riverbeds. I step into my car never to return again to this poor earth.

And what truly mattered?

The pain, the pleasure?

The fear, the confidence?

The battles lost or the victories tossed,

To the side to make way for the never ending fight of living and loving?

I would regret it if I simply loved.

I would regret it if I simply had.

I would regret it if I simply experienced.

Because who is it to love and why

What is it to have if you never had it but got it

What’s there to experience if you never learn?

The way of life is connection with the universe, its routes reaching down and intertwining with the roots of reasons, meanings, intentions, challenge, or considerations.

And death is uncomfortable merely because it is life escaping — As it expresses finally, its purpose. On the other side of pain is growth, a life lived.