Last week, I had the privilege of meeting and befriending an affluent septuagenarian, who is atypical of many Filipinos as he openly discussed death with me. It's probably because he cheated death a few years ago when he survived an ambush. Our conversation led me to ponder why death remains a taboo topic among Filipinos.
In Filipino culture, discussion about death is often avoided, as people fear that talking about it may hasten it. We celebrate life with zest, but we dread talking about the inevitable. However, this man’s candor about death is not at all morbid but rather liberating. I lost my father a year ago, I grieved in silence, and it took me a while to accept that loss. I think I needed this conversation.
Avoiding the discussion of death, according to a sociological perspective, is a form of social control. It is a means through which families prevent distress and a way to maintain family harmony. Yet, not dealing with the topic may eventually lead to unpreparedness and distress. I don’t know if it is easier to talk about death when you have lived a comfortable life like this septuagenarian, or harder for someone who struggled most of his life. But maybe for this man, talking about it is his way of affirming that he has been living a good life.
Opulence Of Death
While conversing, he invited me to see his mausoleum. He told me he had prepared for his death luxuriously. We drove over to a private memorial park where his one-of-a-kind crypt stands.
Before our arrival, he had already given me some sneak peeks of the family's “resting place” through his phone pics. The place is just as astounding as it was documented on his phone.
When I entered the Egyptian pyramid-inspired mausoleum, he jokingly offered to me one of his four chambers if I would like to “go” before him. I retorted back that I needed the whole place if I was to replace him since he would be cheating death for additional decades. He laughed at me and asked whether I was impressed with the place.
With a full sneer, I told him how discriminating the world can be, as his crypt is more comfortable than most of the houses that I have seen, including mine. The meticulous artistry is all over the place. I was staring at the detailed hieroglyphics when I asked him a question whether he was motivated to die soon given the opulence of death he prepared for himself. He retorted back with laughter.
Life Is A Symphony
Our discussion about death continued for a few days. The last we covered was our differing positions on knowing one’s specific “expiration date.”
A businessman that he is, he wanted to know when is he going to die.
And I ended up telling him that I would rather live not knowing when my heart would stop beating because “life is a symphony, best played not knowing the final note.”
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