This is a poem I wrote in memory of someone I knew that recently passed away. Out of respect to her friends and family she shall remain anonymous. Her passing like others made me think about death and what it means to die, or more importantly made me think about what it means to live. Death cannot exist without life; life cannot exist without death. They define each other, and in turn it defines us.
You passed in and out of our lives, like a drop of dew or a falling blossom.
Like a grain of wheat you’ve borne much fruit, more than you know.
But I wonder what dark things were you fighting against? What demons were you dealing with?
I wish I’d known.
I like everyone else has the hubris to think that we could’ve saved you, only to realize that we couldn’t.
No one could.
Your passing is like my childhood has passed, not just mine but for all of us.
We are now reminded of the future that awaits us, we are all going to die.
It frightens me to know that I am going to die.
Religion gives us a variety of answers, heaven, reincarnation, limbo, but as someone who believes in science, I think it valid to believe that this is it.
That there is nothing after this show we call life.
I fear that.
What will I be when the curtain drops on my final act?
Will I be anything?
A ghost?
A memory?
I pray that you are more than that.
You who are in the hearts of so many have to be more than a mere ghost or memory, what it is, I cannot say.
I hope that whatever it is, it is beautiful.