Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Prayer for my last moments

Often, walking home amidst traffic, I think about how fragile life is and how mortal we are. How easy it is for any moment to be the last. And how infinitely precious that moment will be.

And so, in that context, this is my prayer:

When the moment comes for my lifeblood to ebb away, I don’t want any unfinished goodbyes, regrets, unsaid apologies, anxiety, anger, clinging, weeping. I don’t want to see tears or shed them, or even to see the faces of near-and-dear ones. No final farewell, no famous last words.

I hope to have lived in such a way that all my love has been given, and all love from others has been accepted, so that there is nothing more left to give or receive from anybody in this world.

As the lights dim, I want my last thoughts to be of love and contentment, and serenity. I want to be literally able to kiss the earth with my lips and fingers — feel the soil, gravel, grass, pavement, whatever… and say goodbye. Maybe some wet doggy noses, or some cats pawing me curiously, just to lighten up the moment and give me one last laugh. Just to remind me not to be too solemn.

I want to smell and taste and feel grass, rain, sand, soil, mud, fishes, the sea, river water and fur and animal smells. I want to be left alone to have my moments with the simple things of earth. I want to fade out with such moments — my communion with the universe.

Please, God, make sure that nobody messes it up for us — I really really want our first friendly chat together after a lifetime to be special and without interruptions. Try and fix things so that the ambulance gets stuck in a traffic jam for as long as it takes, and the near-and-dear ones don’t get there. Don’t send any passing doctors and good-Samaritans my way. I don’t want to die in the midst of a medical intervention; that would be just cruel. (I know you have this funny sense of humour, God, but just this once, indulge me and restrain yourself.)

Yes, it may look messy and painful to people on the outside, but I want to be left alone, and not revived by someone crying frantically, “Talk to me, look at me.” I don’t care how close that person is, I don’t want him or her crashing my party.

In that golden moment, My Lord, My Friend, there is only room for two — you and I.

I will become a part of eternity, like a wave bursting on the shore and melting into the ocean, leaving only foam behind. Nothing to remember, nothing to pine for… just one more wave in the never-ending, beautiful procession of waves.

My final moments will be intense, sacred and private. My final feelings will be of peace, joy, gratitude and infinite love.

Please, God, make it so.


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