What if I died?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you died? If you think too much like me, then you probably even imagined your funeral.
I have. A lot of times.
Especially when I’ve collapsed, or fallen ill. Recently I got so ill I told mum I was going to die. But she replied, calmly as ever, “You’re not going to die, Fai,” and she patted me on the back, but I had already thought as far as my funeral. My mind travels so fast! I don’t know how she knew I would be well (I was in serious pain) because a few days later, I was back on my feet.

Once I thought, “so this furniture in the living room will be moved and I’ll have to lay here?” Then I shook the feeling away.
Another time, I wondered where all my clothes would go. My notepad has some funny and questionable doodles, maybe I should tear those pages away. What about my laptop? It has a password only I know. What would happen? Then I mentally scorn myself and tell my brain to produce happy thoughts instead.

I have stumbled across some Facebook accounts of people that passed on. Some have wall posts from grieving friends and family. I remember one very vividly; the father posted something on the wall of his beloved daughter almost everyday. It made my heart break. I dropped some tears. Some friends post grieving messages and sometimes happy memories on their wall. It makes me so sad. But I also noticed that as time goes by, the wall posts start to reduce. Once a week. Once a month. Then maybe after a loooong while.
Maybe they have finally accepted it. It kind of makes me glad, to see they are beginning to accept the loss of their beloved friend or family member. But sometimes I can’t help but think, “maybe they are forgotten now.”

I think the silliest reason why I would think of death was when I was a kid. When my mum had given me a good whopping, I would think, “I hope I die so she can miss me.” But I didn’t die. I just cried and played zawana a few hours later, and forgot about it. Recently, the same kind of thought came to my mind after I had a fight with a close friend. I felt I was right and they did me wrong. I thought, “I hope I die so they can miss me.”
I mentally slapped myself. But I laughed a little also. I didn’t think those childish thoughts would still follow me.

I know people forget you eventually, but I, at least, want to be remembered for leaving an impact on someone’s life… Maybe influenced them to be a better version of themselves. Hopefully some wrong I did them doesn’t overshadow the good I did. I hope I’m remembered because of the laughter I brought into their life. Or maybe my loudness. But the happy type. Maybe my singing? I don’t know… something good, at least. I don’t think anyone wants to be remembered for their bad.

Anyway. After all is said and done, I just want one person to be pleased with me, that’s God. What matters most is your eternal destination. All of this is temporary. Your clothes won’t matter. Your hairstyle, your gorgeous shoes, all your wealth: all useless.

My ultimate goal is to hear Him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Let me leave my favourite quote right here so you can ponder on it:

“Be conscious of your littleness. Who are you? Stick your finger in a bucket of water and pull it out, and find the hole you put your finger in. Then say, “That was me.” You’re nothing. You’ll not be missed after, little while after you’re gone. They have a funeral procession out here, and that’s all. But your influence will live on, and on, and on.” 63-0112 – Influence. Rev. William Marrion Branham.

P/S: Said close friend and I made up a few hours later. I played some game on my phone and forgot about everything.

Posted in Growth.

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