Beauty in Death

And sometimes it feels like there is beauty in death. It tears at your soul, as you struggle to convince yourself it’s real, and only when you fully bring it to the front of your mind do you realize that there is an end. There is something that no effort can change. No thought can erase the absence of a person from the earth. But sometimes there is beauty in death. The tearing of your soul is a bitter but enlightening reminder that your soul still wanders this terrain. Your soul is reawakened, reminded that forever is an image you carry in your head but forever is nowhere to be found. Death yells at you and along with your soul you carry the remains of someone else’s. There is beauty in death, we just have to put aside its ugly, painful, covering and hold our eyes wide enough, and our souls open enough to accept its lessons.

No doubt if we could go back in time, we would create a different outcome. Your goodbye would endure just a little longer to assure us that it’s not your last one. But we would be left unchanged to again wander the earth with our eyes tightly closed. Your absence has showed us that as round as this earth is; there is still an edge where one takes his last fatal step. You took that step but a part of you remained with all who were fortunate enough to encounter your lively spirit. It seems that your leave would caution us to walk carefully and avoid anything resembling this unavoidable cliff, but the life that you lived, that you left engrained in our minds, has pushed us to take a step closer. Eyes wide open; I see the beauty in death in the sense that I have been forced to see the beauty in life. Some things are worth sacrificing if those sacrifices are made to enrich the one life we’ve been given. I think your soul rests now, a humble sleep, while ours knows now what it means to be awake. That’s the unfortunate beauty of death. It’s a piercing alarm, but if you listen closely enough, it sings a beautiful tune.