Why do we celebrate one’s birthday but not deathday?
*This short piece of writing was done in a single sitting this afternoon. I can't call it a poem, but it is indeed a fleeting moment of poetic thoughts that flashed through me.
Why do we celebrate a person’s birthdays but not deahday?
The minute I typed deathday, my smart-ass computer told me the word did not exist.
What are we celebrating a person’s birthday for?
They’ve accomplished nothing in the world
Even hardly made their voice heard by any
They are unable to do anything, except cry, pee and poo.
Why are we celebrating a person’s birthday anyway?
Why don’t we celebrate a person’s deathday?
When a person dies
Their body stretches, unfolds, relaxes, at last,
Their mind rested, quieted, untroubled finally.
Shouldn’t we celebrate the new home of their soul
And remember the moments we’ve shared
And cheer for the great things they’ve made?
Yet we don’t remember a person’s deathday as we do their birthdays
We are used to saying a person was born on a certain date
But what that says is vague.
We didn’t know them, nor did they us.
Everyone must face a fork road at their birth — live on or fade away
There is no guarantee a person we know today could’ve survive the hardships down the road
Why do we, today, celebrate a person’s birthdays that by chance saw their growth into an adult
But not celebrate their deathday to which we know they must have come a long way?
Birthday is but a single common day
Deathday is more than an anniversary and has much to say.