Living in fear of death

Over the past two weeks, I have been living in fear of death - not only mine but anyone known to me. It has almost become an obsession with me. Sometimes, I wake up at night and check that everything is right. It really scares me - I can't sleep at night and this fear is eating me up. And I know that I am not alone. There are many people I know who are dealing with this fear.

It all began two weeks ago - on the night of July 17, we were informed that my cousin Nimmy, who was of my same age had passed away. It was really unbelievable, as mom had visited them only the week before and she was in the pink of health, preparing for her job at a bank. She is six months younger than me and her death left us really devastated. The doctors who did the biopsy declared the cause to be a cardiac arrest. A cardiac arrest? At her age, the probability of having a cardiac arrest would be one in a million, as she never had any complaints about her health before. We couldn't reconcile ourselves to her death. Her father had died due to a cardiac arrest, too; but then, he was comparatively older and we could at least bring ourselves to believe it, albeit after a long time. This was really mind-numbing.

This should not really have been a shock for us. We too had too many near-death experiences. I have lost count of how many I had. The boat in which I travelled once sank into a river. And the van or trucker in which I travelled to school inevitably got into at least two accidents every year. Mom's is the worst - a brain haemorrhage. Luckily I happened to be around and got her into hospital just in time to save her.

Then too many news of death started pouring in - my dad's cousin's wife died, inexplicably, after she almost recovered from a fever; the father of my best friend at school died; my mom's favourite teacher and then one of her friends died and many others too - to the extent that it has become almost a joke, and a very terrible one at that.

So much so that everytime the landline rings, my heart races. I can't bear it anymore. There is no longer any interest in the things I used to do, and I have become a net addict. I just need some time before I can really reconcile myself to all this. I keep laughing and so does papa, mom and sis, but we all know that there are really deep wounds beneath the masks we wear, and it is going to take some time to heal.

Today, dad called my uncle to tell him that my purse, which I had lost in the train, had been recovered. Usually, it is mom who calls my uncle.

After some time, dad told us that uncle was really worried when he called. He was fearing the worst when the phone rang. We are not alone in this fear.