Sometimes, tomorrow never comes.

It's difficult to imagine what ran through 14 year old Ojas Mehta's mind as he looked head on into the jaws of death. The unpredictability of it all might have engulfed him at that very moment. Death has always been the only constant in this constantly changing race called life. Morbid as it may seem, death is our ultimate destination. It is difficult to foresee the future, to map every coming minute of your life. Sometimes, you curse the unpredictability of life. But a minute away from death, you'd wish that you had had a prior warning, a hint maybe to say a final goodbye to all your loved ones.
I wouldn't want to say so much and sound like an ignorant fool by saying that I can pretend to feel the tumult of tremendous emotions that flit through the mind of a person so close to his imminent doom, but I can only assume what it feels like to be on the brink of darkness, slowing slipping into an ever-lasting unconsciousness called death.
I see people crumble in front of me, wanting Ojas to come back, just once. "Just once" they say. It's hard to fathom the emotional turbulence that they undergo, but I have felt it too. Death is said to liberate the good souls from this hell called earth. But no one deserves to let go of someone so dear that their heart wants to bleed. Did this so-called entity called God ever bother asking Ojas if he wanted his soul to be liberated from the shackles of human pain? I'm sure not, Ojas would never have said yes.
A death so close suddenly puts everything into a new perspective. Suddenly, I make a concentrated effort to tell mom and dad goodbye before I leave for school. Suddenly, I don't allow my best friends forget that I love them, even for a minute. Suddenly, I want Amogh to know that I love him dearly and will never leave him. Suddenly, I want my favourite teacher to know how much he means to me. Suddenly, I want to make my parents proud of me and I sit and study Psychology for 4 hours because I have a test the next day. And yet, I know, it's a strong intuition built on routine, that I will slip back into the careless me again, soon enough. I don't want to, and subconsciously, I'm hating myself for lapsing into the old routine.
He was 14 years old. 3 years younger than me. I can only imagine the agony that his parents went through during his 6 hours spent in the ICU. I don't want that happening to my parents. I can only imagine what the sweet little girl who secretly likes him felt like when she heard that he would not be breathing again. I don't want to be that girl. I can only imagine how his best friend felt when they had just fought the day before. I don't want to be that best friend.
Incidents like these make me want to be a better human, and I can only try. And hope that my end is not as tragic.
Rest In Peace, Ojas.