Cradle to the grave, a short journey indeed...

It not true what they say about the past-you can bury it, the past can leave a scar, deep enough to be visible through all your years. The past is what she’s been trying to grapple since that fateful day.
“I’ll see you all in the evening, after my exams, bye ”, Sandra heard her sister scream out these words before zipping off on her bike. “Awrite, good luck, bye” , she called out but her voice was muffled by the roaring engine. That was the last she saw her. The events that unfolded later during the days seemed to her as irrational and surreal as a dream, her sister wrapped in white, her body motionless and farely unscathed, her face a picture of placidity, the funeral pyre beside her and her shell-shocked family all around…
Our life hangs precariously, one moment you live a blissful existence, and the next moment you at the gates of the heavenly abodes. ‘Live every moment’, this is one of the most cliched phrases you get to hear but what I witnessed last weekend made me realise that you should indeed live every moment cos you never know if you’ll be around long enough to smell the evening bloom. I’ll not be able to fathom her grief, the condolences will not help in filling that deep void her sister left behind and life for her will not be the same, but these are the things that forms the crux of our miniscule existence. When I read about people who meet an untimely end I think to myself, it always happens to somebody else but we are also a ‘somebody’ to someone else. Drive carefully, death is lurking is every turn and every move you make.