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Reflections of death

A piece of news, no it's a call, spouse shared, shook me recently.

Her cousin's husband had passed away.

Family, but long gap after last conversation..

Again few other cases also triggered..

Not even someone I spoke with often.

But their death triggered a storm inside me.

I began to ask myself questions I had buried for years:

What is the point of this life? Where am I really standing? What mark have I left behind?

If tomorrow I am gone, some who love me may cry.

But those who hate me—or those I hurt knowingly or unknowingly—may laugh, even if silently.

And many will simply move on, unchanged.

What about my children?

Will they remember me with tears, or will life sweep them forward too fast?

The truth is, I am not a government servant with a title.

I hold no political or social power.

I never stood in front of society as a leader or influencer.

I carry mistakes, sins, regrets.

And yet, maybe, somewhere in my journey, I did some good I do not remember—

a kind word, a small help, an unnoticed smile.

I have friends and relatives, but I pulled myself inward.

I lived with thoughts, experiences, and countless conversations,

yet I often wonder—did I live honestly with myself?

And then it struck me.

Maybe life is not about medals, recognition, or headlines.

Maybe it is about the ripples we create.

A stone dropped in water never sees how far the ripples travel.

But they travel anyway.

Witnessing the flow, of emotions, words, people, and self thoughts..


Perhaps my signature is not written in society’s records,

but in small invisible moments—

a hand I held,

a word I spoke,

a mistake that taught,

a smile that spread.


Maybe that is enough.

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