Let's talk about death, baby

Source: artpistol.co.uk

When somebody close to you dies, you feel you have the right to cry out your feelings, feel miserable, feel turned inside up and outside down, feel angry or suppress emotions -  however you chose to deal with it, you have the right! When somebody you didn't know that well dies, then... the decent thing to do is to shut up, present your condolences and try not to let the tragic event affect you that much. But not knowing someone that intimately doesn't mean that sometimes, when someone you know dies, you're not utterly shaken to the core.

A dear friend's wife died a bit over a month ago... A tragic, shocking and unreasonable death, which I knew was going to really affect me, but I was travelling when it happened, so I somehow managed to postpone its impact, like a tsunami frozen in time.

I usually find some sort of comfort in knowing that sometimes deaths can be explained. Ok, so it was an accident, nothing anyone could have done about it. Ok, so he contracted malaria in Malawi while on gap year because he forgot to take his tablets and died. Action and consequence. What are the chances this would happen to me?

But this was no accident. This was a battle with cancer which was fought bravely and for a while it seemed like life was winning. But despite all the great progress, a wonderful mother and wife was taken away in a flash. A person who was so positive that I had no doubt will fight this and win it! Someone my age. Someone who's lived a healthy life, a good life, a generous life. Someone who's given nothing but love and positive thoughts to the world. Someone... like me?...

So I was left with a bunch question in my head... 'How did this happen? She was recovering so well...' 'Why her?' 'Why not me?' 'How can I be sure this won't happen to me?' I let myself spiral down a dangerous path  onto which I've been before, after my uncle died of cancer two years ago. I felt like I had a duty to do something about it. Like I can't just be relieved it didn't happen to me, present my condolences and carry on with my life. Because suddenly I was looking at the idea of death in the face. It wasn't anymore an abstract notion which I could just fend off hopefully for many many years. It wasn't just something that happens to other people. It was something that can happen to me, to you, to her, to the guy across from me on the tube,  the one reading 'Train Spotting' who I quite think is cute, to the girl who's serving me coffee at Pret in the morning, the really pretty and smiley one, to anyone and everyone I know.

I suddenly felt guilty for all the times I was bored, I felt my life was uninteresting, I was upset for stupid reasons, for believing life wasn't worth living alone, for feeling no passion for my job, for complaining about the weather, for all the crazy thoughts only someone ignorant of death can possibly have. I felt particularly humbled after I read her blog. Thoughts she trusted into the digital space, not knowing how much life to live she still had left...

'Sometimes I think something must be wrong with me... I have metastatic cancer, my doctor said he doesn't know how much time I've got left, but despite it all, I'm probably living some of the happiest days of my life... Am I crazy?' she wrote a couple of months before she passed away. 'My diagnosis does not make me any different than the healthy people. They don't know either how many days they've got to live. Nobody knows. Now I'm alive and I'm living it beautifully.'

I also found out from her blog about the possible connection between parabens (common preservatives found in almost every cosmetic product and toiletry) and breast cancer. And in a desperate attempt to claim the longevity of my life, I started raiding all my possessions. I threw away half of the bottles filled with lotions and gels and quarantined a bag of expensive face creams with no ingredients listed as guilty until proven otherwise ( by the way, expensive creams like Elizabeth Arden 8 Hour Cream and Clarins Flash Beauty Balm do have parabens - binned!). I binned two full bottles of L'Oreal True Match Foundation (a best-selling product I've been using for years) containing three types of parabens and replaced it with an expensive Benefit one the very next day. I've even stopped using the hand soap at work for the same reason (I still wash my hands but use my own paraben-free sanitiser). What's happening to me? Am I getting crazy?... IS THIS HOW I'M GOING TO STAY ALIVE??

No, this is not how I am going to stay alive. I can't protect myself from every single potentially harmful and deadly element from my environment and I can't live in fear. But what I can do is live, breathe, smile, love, cry, do all the stupid things and all the great things I want to do, never once look back and say; 'I wish I had lived my life differently.'


This post is dedicated to the memory of Ina Coretchi, a wonderful woman and someone who taught me life's so worth living and full of endless possibilities. Rest in peace.