On dying: people leave this earth and you can’t stop it.
Back in December 2019, I had visited my parents in Taiwan. I’ve always had a fond affection for my mother’s side of the family; perhaps I was the youngest girl on the side and was frequently doted on, but I loved visiting my uncles and aunts (and still do until this day).
We’d always visit my aunt and uncle at their home, and it was a treat. In this informal formal way, we’d always visit, bring some snacks or fruit, and sit around a table catching up and laughing. With a head full of snow white hair, my uncle was always cheerful and smiling. He always ushered me into the house, warmly welcoming me and my mother in. And he’d marvel at the fact that I’ve grown so tall and ask about my life in San Francisco.
He’d always say, 多吃一點，我記得你很喜歡吃蓮霧。Eat more, I remember you love eating these bell apples.
When we left the apartment, my mom said he’d had colon cancer and was fighting the disease. I was surprised, as this was not brought earlier to my attention and he seemed perfectly fine, but it stayed with me even as I took my flight back to San Francisco. Cancer doesn’t commonly run in our family — he was an outlier and it was scary to think this was ravaging his body. His body was being attacked and I didn’t know the severity of it. Being overseas meant that I didn’t see his soul and body deteriorate over the span of months. All the time of intensive chemotherapy gave him an extra year to live, but not without suffering from the aftermaths of radiation.
Yesterday, I saw my cousin had posted something online; my Mandarin is not that good, but I saw 節哀 repeated in the comments over and over again. Through google translate, I saw “節哀” means my condolences and that’s when I knew.
I’m heartbroken.
In the blink of an eye, my aunt lost her best friend, her husband, and life partner. In the blink of an eye, my cousin lost his father and he won’t be able to have his father watch his children grow up to go to college and start their own families. He was gone.
We sometimes think the people close to us are invincible, that death is far away, and that it couldn’t possibly happen to someone we know. But it does, and we cannot stop death. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much money, treatment, or medicine you can have. When the universe pulls you back home, it’s time and you have no choice but to go.
My father used to say something that I hated, but in this weird way, it was him preparing us for anything that would happen. He would say something along the lines of, “I’ll die one day. Mom will die one day. You’ll need to understand that the consistent part of life is death, and you need to be independent and rely on yourself — in the end, you must be strong.” I used to think it was so terrible of him to say. Like why bring these stressful thoughts into my mind?
But as I grew older, I realized he was just being honest. Death is unstoppable, and the earlier we understand that, the less difficult it will be to let people go. In the end, no one can take anything with them. Not expensive handbags, their wealth and cars, or their families. Everyone who dies cannot take anything.
The thought of living had been on my mind for a long time. Not simply living as to exist, but living a life that is fulfilling and meaningful. I don’t ever want to get to a point where I can’t remember the best parts of my life, or I choose work over my family.
These are the times where I truly question the social structures and norms we were taught to follow closely. No one ever prepares us for death — they only prepare us for life. Death should be openly talked about; instead it’s taboo. We mourn in silence and often by ourselves, and we don’t equip ourselves to understand it, or accept it. Perhaps death should be a commemoration of all the good things the person has done or brought into our lives. It should be understood in the fact that all of us will die some day, and that a timeline of life is always uncertain. So small moments should be celebrated, lives should be well lived, and we should tell people that we love them.
Emily is a US expat currently living in Singapore to learn about the tech communities growing in Asia. She has worked 4+ years in dev relations, community management, and event marketing within the tech and travel industry. Her time at OmniSci, Google and Booking.com gave her cross-functional expertise. In her free time, she is the host for the Asian Female Lead podcast and documents her life journey in digital at The Fang Girl. You can watch her YouTube vlogs.
