“People live and someday die. We cannot change that. Nor can we choose how we will die.
But what we can choose is how we live. It’s not how he died that’s important but how he carried himself in life.
Thinking about what you can do for the dead, what you could’ve done for the dead, is nothing but a form of arrogance. All the living need do is grieve the dead and remember how they lived.”
Clocks keep ticking, time keeps passing by, but somewhere out there, a light is fading. Slowly, painfully, silently fading away, bereft of all energy and the will to continue, slowly enveloped by the eternal dark slumber surrounding us all. Surrounded by sorrow, tears, but also acceptance. But a not-so-sudden disruption of life is still disruptive, and hard to accept.
At some point in time, the light of the soul may start to flicker. Life is finite, as the energy of our physical bodies it limited, a limit which the science of today can neither measure nor predict accurately. There are many ways a flickering flame may fade: Suddenly without a warning, fading slowly, through slow acceptance of the dark embrace or in a painful fight for every minute. Mortal’s say in this is limited, and those surrounding a fading soul can often not understand the chosen path.
No matter which path, no matter which time, all of a sudden, there is silence. A silence deeper than the silence of the night, an emotional, eternal, sorrowful sighlence. Thoughts about what could have been, what might have been done to avoid this path needlessly pop up, lingering and eating away at those surrounding souls captured by the unusual occurrence.
It is nigh impossible to accept that there is nothing which could have been done, which could have avoided the fateful path which awaits us when our souls grow old and begin to flicker as the mortal energy keeping them on earth unavoidably drains away.
A faded soul will not take part anymore. Those grieving are shocked at first, stuck in their lives, and a long time passes in which they fully realize they have become one person less. One less taking part in lunches, one less discussing about future decisions, one less joining excursions and watching favourite shows. Every time they touch an item of the lost person, feelings rush in, and the realization materializes more and more, and all other worries shrink away and become meaningless.
Helplessly, the remaining souls struggle. Forcing themselves into the daily routine, working excessively, distracting their focus, keeping themselves away from facing reality. Is reality harsh? Or is it just our lack of acceptance of the unusual occurrence which is tormenting us, while we should try to accept the grief, embrace the golden and unique memories left with us?
The faded soul is supposed to live on inside of these memories, inside of those who don’t forget. Why is it so hard to accept those memories as bright, precious gems? Why are mortals so stuck in their focus on angry aggression, would-have-beens, should-have-saids and would-have-dones instead of accepting the unique memories and making these gems a precious part of their own souls?
Acceptance comes slowly, through painfully long sighlence, but finally it arrives. The road to acceptance is hard, and the grieving souls must struggle to find their way into a positive future. Starting a new chapter with less protagonists is not easy, but we must continue and take those gems of memories with us, which shape our own souls and can make their light grow brighter and in more colours than ever before.