growing up.

i've realised just again,
how much more you seem to be surrounded by death as you grow up.
it seems like such a far away thing to children,
but a bare-faced reality to those who know better.

tick tock,
the clock strikes 12,
and one soul disappears off the earth forever.

such a simple thing, a last breath;
but it affects so many profoundly,
and i start to wonder
if indeed, the meaning of life is in the littlest things that we do.

i believe i am lucky
to not have experienced the death of a close one yet,
despite facing death and being whipped out of it more often than once.

i think that death gives everyone an aura
of requiring comfort,
but not wanting any except from those who give the sincerest of condolences.
like an untouchablity,
a saddness that YOU, the side stander, cannot ever fathom unless YOU experience it for yourself.
indeed, we sympathise, we mourn,
but do we really ever understand?

death means
never waking up and seeing X make coffee/milo/tea anymore,
never hearing X's voice on the phone anymore,
never seeing the changing expressions on X's face anymore.

so many other implications that we will never know
unless we experience it ourselves.

ahh, experience.
wisdom's most cruel face, at times.