On matters of life and death.

There’s an old standby that the pessimists (realists?) of the world reiterate in times of challenging news: When it rains, it pours. It is purported to be axiomatic; with one comes the other. I’ve stood in rain smiling and laughed when it poured. It has been cathartic. Recently, however, the referenced pouring has been decidedly less pleasant. This leads me to ponder the phrase for application in different contexts.

The widely accepted form of pouring referred to has come to the forefront of daily life in my family. An unimaginable disturbance has arisen in the form of cancer. Cancer carries the weight of generations by its mere pronouncement. Now our family is forced to speak evil into the world once more. We are to give voice to death and allow it a place at the table again. I am of the opinion and always will be that we are wise to wish death well, that it is always welcome. An unfortunate but necessary guest. Hushing the word away is akin to an outright denial of reality.

We must celebrate our place in relation to death, still able to draw breath and be grateful. Life is a stop along the way.

Death is but a single, perfect black moment. The fall from the edge can seem to stretch time and make it meaningless, but the fear is not in the black, it is in the fall. We are prone to fear falling from our birth. If you can lay this fear to rest, as you should, death can at long last become an ally.

Fear not the fall; few things in life are so inexorable. It is in the fall that you realize the heights you have actually reached.

Love this day and every day as though it were your last, because eventually it will be. Death is not an adversary, it is a welcome reminder to cherish life.

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