Life goes on, but whose life?

Fear. Now I know what it felt like. The accident showed me fear in the ravines of never-ending darkness. The realization is unmistakable. We could have died. That instant, that night.

I can almost see the headline: Tragedy ended a night of stories, songs, laughters, alcohol…

It happened Sunday. Then the nightmares started coming. It is always pitch black, a cold dark night. I felt like a halloween character on elm street. The waking moments are just as bad. I am shivering cold. Then the uncontrollable tears. Right now, I haven’t gotten over the sobs yet. So I am here. Writing. A selfish way for me to let the nightmares go away, the fear…

And the paranoia that I am not safe outside. Not safe at all.

But life goes on. Of course, accidents happen. The news are full of it.

The cruel question is what then, what after?

Still alive, those I knew shall celebrate our “2nd life” with stories, songs, laughters, and that stress-relieving, pain-numbing, truth-be-told, self-exposing, laugh-inducing, tear-secreting no-care-in-the-world-i-am-free-i-am-wild liquid.

If dead, a day or two of mourning. And life goes back to usual. Yes, life must go on. Ours should too. We’re here. We’re not ghosts.

What were the lessons learned? If there were, is it ours to learn alone?

What could have been learned? I hope what happened doesn’t amount to nothingness.

As for me, fear is leading me to a path of bravery. That road where realizations are slowly unfolding: about people and places, about chances and thanksgiving, about friends and families.

About helping hands and sincere gestures.

About funny stories and real laughters.

About work and colleagues.

I can all recall them.

And I’m grateful that I can.