Why did I say that? Nothing. I just want to be the person who shouts it.
I love that phrase, I don’t exactly know why though. Maybe it’s because it suggests something… something I’m looking forward to.
The period at the end of the sentence, the closing of the book in every fairy tale (animated film), or the logos of the sponsors of the film after credits. That’s what I’m looking for. An end.
Why am I looking for an end? Because, what is more beautiful than end? It suggests stopping. It suggest that finally, we are going to have a conclusion. It’s reading the last page of the book, after you’ve read the phrase “The End,” you will stop to think about everything. How the book affected you, how beautiful/scary/horrible the book is, how much you enjoyed or ended up as annoyed while reading the book. It’s the time when you rethink of the scenes/chapters that you loved/hated the most. It’s — as I’ve said — where you conclude.
I’ve just finished reading the “Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom” (I’m currently struggling to finish TMBS series) and I guess, that book, gets my idea of conclusion.
For starters, it started with the phrase “The End,” which — as I have also said — my favorite line. The end doesn’t usually mean, the end. It’s just like moving on to a different chapter, only, that chapter is a blank page and you are the one whose going to write on it.
You are now probably confused. I, after all, started this blog emphasizing on the end and on my supporting paragraphs, I talked about continuing the end. Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. Because I sometimes confuse myself as well, but no worries, you’ll understand everything at the end.
Let’s go back to the end.
End, for us, mere humans, means death. It means that something is finished, for us. But for someone, who have been the best audience of your life, it is another beginning.
It is, as I’ve said, another chapter. Like the time when my grandmother died, I cried so hard my eyes was swollen, it’s torture, every time I remember her. I was always at home and even after her burial, sometimes, I can still smell her scent. The days that followed after her death was one of the saddest days of my life, I keep remembering her, smiling at me, beaming that grandmotherly smile that even with just that it would seem like you are being embraced, you are being loved. Even the times when she is angry, turning red in anger, her curses, I can still remember it all, most of the times now, when our family talks about her, we can’t help but smile and, in some occasions, laugh out loud.
Now that’s the ending that I’m talking about. Even when it’s the end, we still reminisce and think about what happened. But we can only do just that. It’s like a book that we cannot re-read because of an unfortunate event (got lost, was snatched or got caught in fire) or a movie that we cannot watch again. It’s like, after flushing the toilet, you remember the last things that you ate.
I am afraid to die (whoever isn’t is a liar) I am afraid of an ending. But, whenever I think about the people that I’m with right now, thinking that, after I die, these people are my legacy. They are the proof of my existence.
Maybe someday, when I finally meet my end, hopefully, some people who really loved me and liked my existence will remember me and would smile, laugh and cry tears of joy while doing so. And I, in return, (as an angel) will smile, laugh and cry with you.
Are you getting my idea of end now? About the story that could only be remembered but couldn’t be re-read? I hope you do. I hope you’re connected.