Dear Death

My fear of night diving (1985) by Pacita Abad

Dear Death,

It has been some time since our trip to the beach, and I must apologize for my silence. I realize now that I may have left you hanging, and for that, I am sorry. It seems that old habits die hard, and I succumbed to my own indecisiveness. I thought it was foolish of you to bring me to that place, as if you were offering me a choice. However, I have come to understand that perhaps that trip was not for me, but rather for you.

You took me to the ocean, the one place that has power to save me. It was as if you knew that if I were to choose you over her, it would be the greatest mistake of my life. In hindsight, I realize that you didn't want me dead at that moment. Otherwise, you could have taken my life right then and there. Instead, you presented me with an ultimatum, a decision to make. But maybe next time, you can simply tell me what you truly desire. I would have gladly joined you on your break, strolling along the shores, and providing you with the company you needed. Even death deserves a glimpse of life from time to time, and I would have gladly offered you that respite.

You once told me, "If you need me when I'm unavailable, go and see the ocean. She will reflect the answers you're searching for." I now understand the intelligence in your words. Nature has always been a mirror, providing the answers we seek. And perhaps the reason humanity feels so lost in these times is because we have ravaged and disregarded nature. Instead, we have developed a peculiar fondness for machines, hoping that they can provide the solutions we crave. But while machines may strive to imitate the functions of the organic, they are still far from comprehending the profound secrets of life that only the organic truly understands. It is disheartening to witness how humans, in their pursuit of answers from machines, have themselves become more mechanical than human. Such thoughts weigh heavy on my soul, and they tempt me to wish for your presence, to have you come and claim me right now. But if you really have no intention of picking me up anytime soon, then I'll follow your advice and continue to draw closer to nature and write about the truths it instills in me.

Eternally yours,

Six

P.S. I really liked your analogy of stars to human lives and starlight to memories. If I get the chance, I'd consult with an expert to learn more about your analogies. Of course, I still prefer to someday personally ask my questions to you since you are the all-knowing one. Speaking of stars, would you know anything about the different types of stars in the universe? I'd like to know what type of star you'd compare me to. I'd be so happy if you compare me to a dark star. Do you know that dark stars, despite their name, are believed to be some of the brightest and most massive stars in the universe? However, their visibility to the naked eye is limited, and they remain hidden from our direct observation. Come to think of it, it seems pretty tragic to be likened to one. I'd never be a light to anyone even if I burn so bright...