[advaitayzen] Nother Story

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In a message dated 8/22/2003 8:37:31 AM Pacific Standard Time, Pedsie2 writes:

Death of a StrangerBy Pete

 

I hear the gurgling murmurs of the sea. The sucking sounds of waves rushing into rocky openings. Air hisses out, water rumbles in mysterious cavities, yet I'm not by the seashore- the patient in the next bed fights for air. He's just a vague contour in the semi-darkness. He fades and blends with the shadows- he's dying. Only his laborious breathing fills the room.Who is he? Was he brought in while I slept? It's so eerie to wake up in the middle of the night and realize someone is dying next to you. It seems obscene not to know him. A complete stranger has materialized out of nothing to die by my side. It dawns on me that dying among strangers is a horrible thing, almost shameful. I'm embarrassed not to know him. Is this person a man? I don't even know that. I am pretty certain he is, but don't know why. If, I could get up and look at him, maybe hold his hand, it would feel less shameful, but I'm badly injured, I can't even turn without help; my slightest movement feels like torture.I try to reassure myself, maybe he isn't dying after all, but death stands by the bed, not like a hooded figure, I wish it were that tangible- no, it's a void, an absence, an impenetrable darkness, a dread that numbs the mind.Is he conscious? "Sir, are you awake?" Only the sea answers, as it feebly battles the shore. "Who are you, sir?" No answer. What answer did I expect? A name? What would my name, Juan Lomita, mean to him? What answer could he give that would convey his essence? Who am I? Is my past life lying here with me? My past life is gone; it dropped behind me like a trail of blood. Only a few memories smolder in my brain. What glows in his brain? Nothing. He's unconscious. Knows nothing, feels nothing- I alone fear for him. I, the only witness to his demise, feel his fear, die his death. Another indignity, to die unaware of your death, to abandon life without knowing its ending like a reader bored by a book.I don't remember ever being this scared. His breathing is like the grunting of an unseen beast approaching through a forest, like the scratching of rats in a dark basement. I feel my arms' hairs standing on end, ready to flee the room despite my useless legs.I hang on his very breath. It sputters and stops. The silence in between seems endless. It starts again with a desperate gasping that startles me every time.Lord have mercy! What's the use of all this fighting to live a moment longer? Let him die! How does it feel to die like that? Does being dead feel any different than being unconscious? Or is it all a seamless darkness?I don't believe in an afterlife, and yet, I don't believe in eternal rest either. Is this life that's ending his? No, it's just a life. One ends here and another is born there. Is that newborn's consciousness any different than his was at the time of his birth? I think not. It's just life- living, dying and being born again. Life is a communal dream, it happens to no one in particular. So I, life, never die just as my body doesn't die when a cell dies. What is the self, but a memory trick? Did I know myself the day I was born? Will I know myself when dead?His dying gives urgency to these questions. Who wants to know? Only this brain gripped by fear, the universe beyond doesn't care. Its cold indifference fogs my mind with terror. I long for some concern; some trace of pity from a loving deity, but there is none. Is his breathing contagious? I'm hyperventilating. Oh God! I'm breathing just like him. Our breaths race neck to neck like runaway horses heading for an abyss. EpilogueThe two nurses enter the room. The new nurse approaches the patient's bed and lifts his wrist. "Oh dear, I think this one is dead."The senior nurse places her fingers on the side of his neck. "Yes, he's quite cold. Must have died some time ago.""What was his name?""Juan Lomita. I believe you talked to his wife this morning.""Yes, she is flying back from Chicago today. I told her he had a fractured hip. I mentioned he had a concussion, but it didn't seem serious and that he was in pain, but alert.Concussions are very unpredictable," says the senior nurse."I wish he had, at least, another patient in the room. He died so alone. Do you think he died in his sleep?"The senior nurse closes Julian's eyes. "Come on, I'll show you how to do the paperwork.""The paperwork never stops, even after death. Does it?That's the only thing most people leave behind- a trail of paperwork from cradle to grave.""Oh dear, what a cheery thought!" She chuckles and pushes the senior nurse toward the door. "Let's get to it!"Pete