Pelgris

I may seem callous in the face of death. Like it doesn’t touch me or effect me. And, in many ways, it doesn’t. Because I don’t think of death as a finality.

It is, instead, an inflection point. A transition from one state to another. And for the soul, the beginning of its next journey. From this life to the next. I know this. Blood and bone. It is not belief. Or hope. Or faith. It simply is. And because of that I don’t view death the same way.

But still I mourn. Not for those I love who slip beyond the veil to that next journey. No. I mourn for all of us still left here. Bereft of this person we love. Forced to endure without the beacon of their soul. Lost on these treacherous and hollow shores.

I mourn for us.

But I also am cheered. Whatever pain and hardship this life had offered are gone. And whatever joy and love it offered is carried forth. As they embark on the next journey. May they carry us well. Knowing eternally, they were loved. And they will be missed.