Time and Death are equal for all

Happy birth day to my best friend/sister. 
How many years has it been since I have not been able to celebrate in person? I hope that next year I will be able to say happy birthday to my sister in person.

This may not be the kind of article to write on such a happy day, but I want to write about my honest feelings every day, so I decided to write it after all.

I spend every day of my life with death always on my mind, to my horror. I'm sorry to talk about something that is not so peaceful. I am aware of it, but it does not mean that I want to die every day.

Of course, I am not ready.
Perhaps preparation is a more appropriate word.

I am aware of the possibility of death, so I am trying to live my life without regret. Since I was a university student, my best friend once said to me, "Are you in a hurry to live?" I have been told that I am in a hurry to live. For some reason, I have always been thought of as a busy person, but I am not busy at all.

The first time in my life that I witnessed someone's "death" was when my grandfather passed away. I honestly cannot remember exactly how old I was, but I was in elementary school. I was very young, but I had a clear understanding of what it meant to die.

"No matter how much I miss him, no matter how much I regret it, I will never see him again, never hear his voice, never see his smile."

I am sure the family members around me thought I was too small to clearly understand death. They looked a little bewildered as I continued to sob and cry. I had understood more than enough.

The next time I was shocked by death was when the deputy manager of another section of the company where I worked after graduate passed away. It was early Sunday morning when he passed away and sadly his family found him dead in his bedroom as he slept. On Friday I greeted him as usual and said, "Oh, I guess he'll be working another holiday tomorrow." With what a thought I left the office before him. On Monday morning, I received an internal message from colleague in that section, and was shocked as if time had stopped for a moment.

We didn't work in the same department, and we didn't talk to each other a lot. But it was hard to believe, clichéd as it may sound, that the man who sat just in front of me every day was no longer in this world.

He had been complaining to his family about chest problems and passed away the day before the results of his medical checkup were released. The cause of death was determined to be myocardial infarction, but in fact, everyone said it was probably death from overwork.

When my grandfather passed away, my mother did not want me to attend his funeral, so at the age of 24, I had the experience of attending someone's funeral for the first time. Maybe it is a blessing that I have never attended a funeral before the age of 24, because I have never been to a funeral before, and I have never been to a funeral before. Because it was not a pleasant experience.

After attending the funeral, my heart was very heavy and painful for a while. Although I already understood death when I was in elementary school, as an adult, a new emotion of emptiness came on board.

I think this kind of experience is the reason why I try to see the people I want to see as long as I have time to see them. Some people I will never see again if I think I will see them next week anyway. That feeling probably shouldn't be dulled.

And I myself sometimes get tired of living. But the reason I am able to weave these words now is because I don't want to die and continue to hurt the people I love for the rest of my life. I cannot be their burden on their left of life.

I hope I can write something a little more cheerful tomorrow.
See you then.