Mohini Kundu

If I had leaves they would be yellowing. The buds have grown out fully and the ripe green of spring has faded, which comes with it’s own sense of mourning. When you see signs of youth falling away from you, I wonder, is there a single human who hasn’t panicked just a little?

Memento mori, the Stoic principle meaning “remember you will die,” became very real for me a few years ago. During the pandemic, I had my first truly close encounters with death, and time had run out for me to continue pretending that dying is something dramatic that happens in movies.

My earliest memory of being scared of death goes back to when I was around 10 years old. My brother was playing Super Nintendo (because like I said, I’m OLD), and his character died. I remember him shouting, “I died!” and then thinking, “No, you didn’t. But one day we will.” I didn’t sleep well for a long time after that, wondering if the dark corners of my room at night were anything like what I’d see in death.

If you’ve never felt fear at the thought of death, this may sound strange to you. But despite death being a normal part of any life, I have to imagine that mortal fear is somewhat universal. For me, it turned out to be the tip of a colossal, deeply-rooted iceberg. In hindsight, I believe I was anxious to the point of panic because I wasn’t living life in line with my values, and there were some hard truths I had not faced or accepted.

Facing death forced me to reckon with reality and put my beliefs about life and myself to the test. I learned a lot during this period of my life that I now think of as my induction into adulthood, and I captured much of it through daily journals. I felt compelled to write, both to process everything as it happened, but also to share with others as most everyone I spoke to around my age at the time was facing a similar reckoning.

Over the next several weeks, I plan to share my journey. If you’re interested, please subscribe and follow along. Thanks for reading!