As Different As The Lives We lead

News of death this morning has me shaken. I wander the halls and garden and am only momentarily distracted by the blooming lavender or sweet basil. Death can be a release, a calm, an anticipated goodbye, celebrated even. When death finds the incredibly young, or is undoubtedly painful or lonely I am sent searching for explanation though. Death finds us all so why should the matter in which it arrives be so different? As different as the lives we lead. How can we make sense of a tragic end for the one that's end has been met? Why must our imaginations take us to their last moments in search of explanation? It is not the way we die but the life that we have lived that is important. Mindful, I shall fill my life with beautiful things. I will love fully and without hesitation the people and things that mean the most to me. I will celebrate life, however simple, refined and true. In living thusly perhaps we beat death in whichever form it chooses to arrive. Albeit quietly, horrifically or accidental.
What of the mothers, brothers, friends and lovers left outside deaths doors? How will they continue on without precious loved ones? Let me breathe in all that was given over the years and not what was taken so quickly. Let me be present for those that need it most. Let them know this life was not lost, but lived!
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  1. I'm sorry to hear about your loss. The pain always strikes differently.

  2. Oh, T. I'm so sorry. So so sorry. This is really moving.



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