24 Hours
“……O! dolci baci, o languide carezze,
mentr’io fremente le belle forme disciogliea dai veli!
Svanì per sempre il sogno mio d’amore.
L’ora è fuggita, e muoio disperato!
E muoio disperato!
E non ho amato mai tanto la vita,
tanto la vita!”Mario Cavaradossi (Opera:Tosca, G. Puccini)
What a terrible sentiment!
The words above in Italian are the final wishes of the Painter/Revolutionary, Mario Cavaradossi from the Opera, Tosca composed by Giacomo Puccini.
The meaning of those lines is as follow, and will provide you with a glimpse of my sentiments in my hour of death;
With sweetest kisses, tenderest caresses,
A thing of beauty, of matchless symmetry in form and feature!
My dream of love is now dispelled forever.
I lived uncaringly and now I die despairing!
Alas, I die despairing!
And never was life so dear to me, no never,
So dear, no never!
Giacomo Puccini
I’ve attached a video of Legendary Franco Corelli’s interpretation of the Aria. As another Tenor, I found this recording the answer to this philosophical question!
Just like Mario Cavaradossi, who adored the love of his life, his diva, his Ethereal Jewel, TOSCA so passionately, in the most Italian way possible. The feeling is mutual for me during the last hours of my life with what I love so dearly, my TOSCA; LIFE!
This Journey I’ve voyaged with Life, the life I’ve lived for two and a half decades has been but a wonderful, unearned privilege, unselfishly bestowed and served to replenish every fibre of my being; and now I would be facing the final curtain, the last salute, the grand departure from my mortal shell!
But what compels me to live my final hours of life with an unavoidable duty to but LIVE? What should I do? Whom should I reminisce?
Which sentiment to feel? What material possession ought I leave? Why do I fear Death? Did I fear Life all these years??
Or was Mark Twain just drunk when he said that?
MY LAST WISH
I shall not fear death!
That is a given.
Even if it is too soon.
I need to live life than ever before. I need to see more than I ever saw.
I need to Sing more than any Tenor could dream of!
I need to shed tears mightier than the mightiest of storms.
I need to laugh louder than the loudest of Thunders.
I need to embrace my parents and loved ones tighter than Deaths Noose around my Soul.
I need to be at peace than the absence of wars!
The idea of having less than a day to live clutters my mind.
I will have to give up the material possessions of the present and the future. but do I destroy them? No, I bestow them unconditionally to my loved ones, especially to my mother! She would use the wealth I’ve created all this life to get better knees to walk and better medicine for her lungs to breathe without the clutters of phlegm deposits swirling and impeding her freedom to live each millisecond peacefully.
I wonder if this thought will be reciprocated by her mutually and with the same disposition? for I know that when my existence extinguishes exceeding her expectations, the excruciating pain will explode within her to an exponential extent! The life we lived together was symbiotic and indivisible at all costs. And an irony will be exposed when I leave material comfort for my mother, yet there is no comfort for her without me!
This thought of thinking I had to leave than to live — bruises me!
I will have regrets! Not a few like Frank Sinatra had. But a lot. I made a lot of bad decisions in my life, but along with that, some great ones too. Along with getting to write on Medium. Even to pen these words, is a privilege. But in grief contradiction, I write these mournful letters, merely at the thought I will have no life to live, and I will not be able to empathize with those that will live after me.
I may leave all my worldly possessions even before I march to the dark grave of the bleak metaphysical winter. But I can’t have control over the thoughts that will sprout amongst those who valued me.
This Scars! This Bleeds!
These thoughts shatter me to the bone!
This trembles me more than the most disastrous of earthquakes!
On my deathbed, I will have my final and longest sleep. But not in the hope to renew in a breath of fresh air, but to decay, deplete, reach oblivion and join with the rest of mother nature in the form of stardust. I have to fulfil the path to bid farewell to everyone including my mortal shell. My aspirations are all gone and split asunder! My loved ones are left shell shocked and in torture for the thought of my farewell. I have no control over that. and that agonizes me even more. Emotional Numbness veils me, in these arrays of thoughts that brought me to this mess all along.
But do I regret writing about it? No. Will I anticipate just in case it becomes a reality? Absolutely!
Many people die at twenty-five and aren’t buried until they are seventy-five. Benjamin Franklin
