Respecting the Dead
I've never really had much of a reaction when hearing about a person's death. The last human death that shocked me was my great grandmother's. That happened years ago, in 2004. I cried but that was because I was a kid and thought I must cry at funerals. I didn't even understand death!
Since then relatives have died, the family of friends, and people I once knew. When a relative's husband died somewhere this year, I was shocked. But mostly because he was young and had just welcomed his first child to the world.
The only time in the recent past that death really hit me was when a man tried to commit suicide. I was in the school van, the last bit of my journey back home. It was three in the afternoon, and I was really tired. There was a 'long vehicle' next to the van, and suddenly a man, maybe in his fifties, lay across the road, so that the long vehicle would go over him. The vehicle stopped inches away from the man. He then waved at the vehicle, telling it to go over him. Our van driver didn't dare go ahead in case this man jumped over to our lane. Two other men then ran over and pulled this man up, and took him away. As soon as it seemed safe the long vehicle tried to go on when the man once again ran across the road. Both vehicles didn't move until the man was taken away.
I didn't cry, but my body shook a bit, understanding what I would have seen if that vehicle hadn't been stopped on time. Would the man's blood and guts have splattered on our vehicle. Would the air have filled with the smell of blood?
I've always avoided funerals, not because I don't see a purpose in one, but because I don't know how funerals work. What am I supposed to say to people?
So I show no interest whatsoever for funerals or death. Just doesn't bother me. People live, people die.
However, yesterday a conversation reminded me of an argument I once had with a cousin. It deals with respecting the dead. When Princess Diana was alive, people insulted her, believed the rumors, waited for the latest scandal and on the whole, just loved to sling mud at her. Then she died and the world cried. They suddenly remembered how she helped many communities, how beautiful she was and whatnot. Suddenly, she was this perfect person, and her death was a great loss to the world.
Michael Jackson sang some of the most amazing songs the world has heard. Yet, people laughed at his facial imperfections, his skin, his hair. They called him a pedophile, and many other things. However, his death shocked the world and suddenly everyone started praising him. They forgot about the nasty stories and various accusations. Jackson was suddenly god!
We tend to glorify people when they die. People think the dead need to be respected. So we are told not to talk ill of the dead.
Why not?
Are they going to come back as ghosts and haunt us? Is that your reason for not talking ill about the dead? Because they will only haunt you if you talk bad about them once they are dead, forgetting that you spoke ill about them when they were alive? Ya sure, that's how haunting works!
I believe my parents deserve respect. The clergy. Intellectuals. So many people deserve respect. However, when they are alive. When a man dies he stops being the person he once was, he become decaying organs and skin. He starts rotting, and he is simply no more. And if the body is cremated, he is nothing but ashes.
So don't respect a man just because he is dead. We still respect the Buddha, Jesus or even Gandhi because we respected them while they were alive. If you were to bash a man while he breathes, and then suddenly have this new found respect because of his death, you aren't doing him or his image any justice.
People don't suddenly become respect-worthy when they die. The world shouldn't work that way. If you hated someone when he's alive, don't suddenly love him when he dies. Death doesn't make a good man evil or a bad man good.
I would never want people to wait till I die to praise me or insult me. Praise or insult while I'm alive, and if you want, keep doing that once I'm dead. But don't switch from praise to insult or insult to praise just because I breathe no more.
Since then relatives have died, the family of friends, and people I once knew. When a relative's husband died somewhere this year, I was shocked. But mostly because he was young and had just welcomed his first child to the world.
The only time in the recent past that death really hit me was when a man tried to commit suicide. I was in the school van, the last bit of my journey back home. It was three in the afternoon, and I was really tired. There was a 'long vehicle' next to the van, and suddenly a man, maybe in his fifties, lay across the road, so that the long vehicle would go over him. The vehicle stopped inches away from the man. He then waved at the vehicle, telling it to go over him. Our van driver didn't dare go ahead in case this man jumped over to our lane. Two other men then ran over and pulled this man up, and took him away. As soon as it seemed safe the long vehicle tried to go on when the man once again ran across the road. Both vehicles didn't move until the man was taken away.
I didn't cry, but my body shook a bit, understanding what I would have seen if that vehicle hadn't been stopped on time. Would the man's blood and guts have splattered on our vehicle. Would the air have filled with the smell of blood?
I've always avoided funerals, not because I don't see a purpose in one, but because I don't know how funerals work. What am I supposed to say to people?
So I show no interest whatsoever for funerals or death. Just doesn't bother me. People live, people die.
However, yesterday a conversation reminded me of an argument I once had with a cousin. It deals with respecting the dead. When Princess Diana was alive, people insulted her, believed the rumors, waited for the latest scandal and on the whole, just loved to sling mud at her. Then she died and the world cried. They suddenly remembered how she helped many communities, how beautiful she was and whatnot. Suddenly, she was this perfect person, and her death was a great loss to the world.
Michael Jackson sang some of the most amazing songs the world has heard. Yet, people laughed at his facial imperfections, his skin, his hair. They called him a pedophile, and many other things. However, his death shocked the world and suddenly everyone started praising him. They forgot about the nasty stories and various accusations. Jackson was suddenly god!
We tend to glorify people when they die. People think the dead need to be respected. So we are told not to talk ill of the dead.
Why not?
Are they going to come back as ghosts and haunt us? Is that your reason for not talking ill about the dead? Because they will only haunt you if you talk bad about them once they are dead, forgetting that you spoke ill about them when they were alive? Ya sure, that's how haunting works!
I believe my parents deserve respect. The clergy. Intellectuals. So many people deserve respect. However, when they are alive. When a man dies he stops being the person he once was, he become decaying organs and skin. He starts rotting, and he is simply no more. And if the body is cremated, he is nothing but ashes.
So don't respect a man just because he is dead. We still respect the Buddha, Jesus or even Gandhi because we respected them while they were alive. If you were to bash a man while he breathes, and then suddenly have this new found respect because of his death, you aren't doing him or his image any justice.
People don't suddenly become respect-worthy when they die. The world shouldn't work that way. If you hated someone when he's alive, don't suddenly love him when he dies. Death doesn't make a good man evil or a bad man good.
I would never want people to wait till I die to praise me or insult me. Praise or insult while I'm alive, and if you want, keep doing that once I'm dead. But don't switch from praise to insult or insult to praise just because I breathe no more.
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