In Arabic, my native tongue, when someone passes away, we say that death kidnapped him or her. We use the term kidnapped because death often takes us by surprise, arriving at a moment when we least expect it. As I reflected on this today, I wondered whether I would prefer a swift, unexpected transition, knowing beforehand, or being taken by surprise. The truth is that I do not know. Both scenarios present advantages and disadvantages, at least from my perspective.
Since I cannot control the manner or timing of my departure, I have tried to prepare myself mentally to live as if each day were my last on Earth. I have made the necessary arrangements to cause as little inconvenience as possible to my loved ones. As for myself, I remain focused and grounded, learning to expect the unexpected. Still, during my daily walk and contemplation in the park today, another question surfaced. If death quite literally kidnaps most of us when we least expect it, how do the souls who suddenly find themselves on the other side cope with such an abrupt transition?
“It is not unlike the birth of a baby in your world. The infant cries from the shock and fear of leaving the safety of the womb, but soon settles into calm through physical contact with its mother. The experience on the other side is not so different. Love is abundant here. This is home.”
Over the years, I have learned not to grow overly attached to the physical world, which I regard as temporary. Perhaps we would do well to treat our incarnation on Earth as a visitation rather than a permanent residence, and to loosen our attachment to material surroundings. After all, everything we possess now will eventually become redundant, perhaps sooner than we imagine.
After my wife and daughter, my most prized possession in this world is my soul, not anything material. I prefer simplicity because when my time comes, I hope to travel light.
