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A Rehearsal for Dying
By Michael Ian Lomongo

“To conquer death, you only have to die… you only have to die.” – Jesus Christ, in Webber/Rice’s “Jesus Christ Superstar”

I was a young kid then when my brother Errol and I used to play with toy guns, soldiers and tanks. Once, our mother heard us talking about wiping out each other’s “men.” She said that we shouldn’t be talking so cavalierly about killing and deaths because, in the real world, lives that are taken are lost, well, permanently.

At about the same time, during the proclamation of faith in one mass that we attended, I heard Errol sing “Si Kristo’y namatay, si Kristo’y nabuhay, si Kristo’y babalik sa wakas ng panahon.” I told our mom that my brother’s got it all wrong, that it should be “Sa bakas ng panahon.” Only to find out that I was the one who’d been singing it wrongly all this time.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tried to imagine what it would be like at the end of time. I thought there would only be trees and birds. (I even imagined the sunlight filtering through the trees and the birds chirping in an early “people-less” morning.) Everyone I know (including me), and even those I hardly know and don’t know at all, would be gone, dead. It was awful.

I thought people didn’t really die. I thought that they soon got up from their graves or from wherever or whatever they’ve been lying, just like those numerous people who get killed in action movies. And to top it all, there was such a thing as the “end of time.” Oh God!

And so, as I grew up, I came to be more acquainted with the concept of death and dying, etc., etc. It’s but natural to be afraid of it since it’s supposed to be the end of existence as we know it. Well, yes, religion and all sorts of faith tell us that we do not really die, that there is this “life beyond” and so on and so forth, but (pardon me for being a skeptic)… for the most part, I think it’s just a way for us to comfort ourselves and avoid the danger of falling into the pit of chronic despair.

Oh and yes, (like Hamlet and many others) I too have time and again thought of, and wished for, death as a better alternative to the sufferings of living. But yes, it’s probably just the angsty, whiny side of me. (Nothing a good dose of sex, or wanking, for that matter, can’t cure. Wahaha!) Besides, my love for life is just too much for my melancholic, depressive side to get the better of.

And I don’t want to die just yet. As Carole King said, “I’ve so many dreams I’ve yet to find…”

But then again, as they say, life (or death) is what happens while you’re busy making plans about it.

Last November 11 (which incidentally, was my brother Errol’s birthday), on the way to a hospital, I passed out. I woke up later, struggling, with a tube inserted in my mouth, on a hospital bed. They say I was out cold for five minutes. Dead. And now, revived.

So, technically, this is supposed to be my “second life.” What now? Yes, I know, I’m supposed to be wiser, more spiritually and emotionally mature… what with this life-changing experience I’ve had.

Well, sorry to disappoint you, guys. No, I didn’t see any white light. No, I didn’t hear any voice. No, I’m not a better person. Yes, I’m still basically the same person that you probably liked for some peculiar traits and hated for others. I’m still the Ian partial to certain ideas, struggling to become a better version of himself, and still prone to the same failures and mistakes.

But moments before “dying,” with my breathing getting more painful and laborious, and my heartbeat onrushing like a speeding train, I realized that this could be “it.” The “the.” Death. I fought and negotiated (with “who” or “what,” I don’t know). I don’t want to die yet. I’ve got all these unfulfilled, unrealized dreams. I’ve got all these… etc., etc… Please?!

Finally realizing that there was no point to struggling, that resistance was futile, I surrendered. (In the face of death, all these our attachments do not matter.) But I don’t mean it as a gesture of defeat. More as “letting go” or “letting be.” Like saying “yes!” to a persistent and patient lover. Like saying “yes!” to life, which (come to think of it!) it is, for isn’t death naturally a part of life?

At some point, the pain got transcended. Not just more bearable. Transcended. And with it, an intensification of feeling and sensation. Everything just seemed to be fuller, brighter and clearer.

And just before I passed out, with that feeling of acceptance for everything that I was and was not and would not and never be, I felt a welling up of love in my heart, side by side with its palpitation. I felt my heart explode, as if I “came” through this organ.

Blackout.

When I do go, that’s the way I’d like to go. Hopefully, when I’m a lot older (107 years old), a lot kinder, a lot wiser. (Hopefully too, in my ultimate despedida party, with lots of friends and eating and drinking and singing.)

As for now, what have we got to do?

Live.

Love.

Live!

(Let’s drink to that! Cheers!)

Tags: Death, Dying, Life, Near-Death Experience

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 4th, 2010 at 12:39 pm and is filed under Filipinos, Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.