...better left on the shelf

Confronting mortality is not pleasant. It is strange to discover that as we age so do others. No one lives forever. The characters in stories live forever in people's memories, but people don't. We can pray our voices have had an effect on others and that we are not negatively represented through time, but once the last breath is exhaled, there is no point to worry about such things.

A certain someone has recently died. It was suicide. I am sad and yet knew this was coming though I did not know this person very intimately. In fact, in the view of this individual, I find myself in the dark and hellish background of his/her existence.. Never spoke to him and yet I knew this person was an intelligent and incredible character. What must have driven said person to this end is beyond me. I don't know what causes men to fall off cliffs or point needle to flesh. Escape is all I can think of. Freedom is all I know worth dying for.

Spirits are not meant to be boxed in these bodies. For this we sing, we run, we write, we speak. There are some words, some speeches, some sermons, and some lectures that will never leave me.
So, for suicide friend, I love moments of your existence. Your words cut through into the reasoning of my life and reaffirmed me.

We write in praise of the moments we may yet create. We sing for moments of exultation or in grief. We create because we are all doomed. Celebrate the moments! All endings are sad if we read long enough and that is why I leave some books unfinished.