death

I thought about death a lot during the last two weeks of November.

Don’t ask me why. But it made me wonder if they were the same thoughts Dad had when he was much younger. When my siblings and I were babies, Dad had never carried us. Not once, mum said.

“I truly believed that I would die young and I wanted to spare all of you the heartache of losing someone,” he told me once when I was much older. He didn’t say anything more, but I understood then how he wanted to protect us from the hurt he once experienced when he lost his own father at a very young age.

Perhaps my feelings of death were planted by international news that rung of the world's end. Poisonous jellyfish in Phi Phi, floods in Vietnam, travel warnings in Bali and Sri Lanka, riots in Bangkok, terror attacks in Mumbai… all happening in November alone.

I don’t think I ever dreamt of death in those weeks. I just felt it.
A relation.
Between death and myself.

Is it an omen? Or hint of a new beginning?

*shrugs... Well only time will tell.