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  • Writer's pictureWojciech Salski


A boy becomes a man twice, he thought remembering an idea from one of the many books he had a chance to discover, once when his father dies and once when he becomes a father…


Pondering the nature of change, which was inevitable, constant, and omnipresent, the boy tried to logically comprehend the idea of his parents and loved ones dying one day. It was not a morbid kind of inner dialogue, rather a mind-boggling one. I do not know how to approach it, he pointed out to his grandma when talking over the phone, I don’t think I can get my head around it… With her tone of voice, one could tell she was smiling, death comes to us all my dear, or rather we go to her, but it is not easy to understand it, even when you’ll be my age… Reflective as he was, he tried to navigate his pondering to follow this difficult to cross the territory, I can easily recognise my own death, he stated, but that of someone I love, I can’t.


I remember when my father died, his granny voiced her memories, it was probably one of the most, if not the most, difficult situations in my long life… The boy noticed himself nodding his head, despite the lack of full comprehension of the circumstances, it’s a nod of empathy, his mind hummed silently. My world changed never to be the same again, she continued, it felt so heavy, she sighed waking up from the dead the emotional states and memories, which should probably be left undisturbed in their time-space slumber. See, he pointed out, I understand what you are saying and empathise with the emotion, but I don’t think my mind truly gets it… I don’t think there is the slightest spark of true recognition and acceptance of this kind of event… I have no idea what I would do without my parents…


They chose to stay silent for a few moments. Well, they didn’t choose it, rather it happened for them. The silence of contemplation, remembrance, prophecies, and comprehension filled the spatial in-between of these two human beings, whose blood and collective experiences created this unique bond of love, which entangled their souls forever. They say family can’t be chosen, the boy started suddenly, but I kind of feel that we spawn in the families we are supposed to… His grandma laughed, although she didn’t recognise the word her grandson used, I think we are here for a reason as well, she added. When did you stop feeling like a child, he asked. The quiet hum of the intercellular connection accompanied his brief wait for the answer. I guess it was about the time my father passed away, she stated quietly, as if not to startle the vivid memories, which caressed her tired mind, but I still feel like a child sometimes…


Feeling the smile shining forth from his face, the boy realised the sensation he was experiencing. Of course, you do, he chuckled, we’re all children stuck in these bodies, which grow old with time… Soul doesn’t grow old so easily though! Her laughter joined his and they blissfully appreciated a moment of precious gratitude of being. Coming back to what I said before, maybe that’s exactly the moment one becomes an adult, he noticed the inverted commas sign he made with his hand while gazing out the window, when we experience the death of our parents, we instantly step up… A boy becomes a man twice, he thought remembering an idea from one of the many books he had a chance to discover, once when his father dies and once when he becomes a father… His grandma considered the idea for some time, which gave him space to reflect on this slightly extreme assumption. It’s quite extreme, he noted silently, it’s rather likely, that such shift in the order of one’s world leaves them changed forever…


The boy recognised that nothing ever stays the same, which suggested that every, even the tiniest, least significant, the experience of one’s life, was forever alternating the state of one’s existence. It felt true. Drawing from such a hypothesis, he considered the idea of the extreme world-view transformation, which takes place when someone as important to a human as their parent, their guardian, their role model, dies. Suddenly, you are on your own – no more advice asking, no more broken heart mending, no more experience-driven support, he pondered, you are in charge now… His grandma sighed and finally followed with the answer to his previous statement, I can see how these events shake and shapeshift our lives, but I’m also certain that there can be many others that extremely alternate our state of existence… These ones might just be so emotionally loaded, they stand out as the ultimate changes, she added, but it’s only a matter of time and the nature of all things, so do not worry about the lack of comprehension… It will come to you when it needs to…

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#prose #creativewriting #foodforthought #death #life #idea #sharing #truestory #philosophy #oldage #contemplation

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