The Day I Die

Sometimes I think and talk about death.

When will I die?

On July? Forty years later? Next two weeks? Tomorrow? Or maybe, tonight?

Why do I die?
Accident? Incurable cancer? Bleeding during childbirth? Murdered? Or even, kill myself?

Where will I die?

In hospital? In my home? In ambulance, on the way to hospital? Somewhere, not in my hometown? In Atlanta?

Who will come to my funeral?

All my family? My schoolmates? My Jerry friend? My ex-boyfriend? Will it, no one?

How do I die?

Is it hurt? Is it cold? Will I cry? Will I scream? Or it just feels like sleep? Like hibernate?

Then you know what?

Death is not always about die. Mostly people said, “He/She is gone”, but you actually just move, or back. Moslem people said, “Back to Rahmatullah”. You don’t have to worry about it will hurt, is a beautiful moment that you’ll meet God, isn’t it?

We’ll not die. We’re move to another place, move to another realm. Closer, back to God. Ready or not.