F A R E W E L L

These photos are moments when I found myself thinking about death, about folks I’d known who were gone, or leaving.

I was not afraid. It was not distressing. There was no discomfort. No darkness.

I felt alive and loved. There were colors and lights. And my eyesight broad and far.

A week ago, I met a friend for lunch. He’d lost his cousin the day before. The grief was tremendous. By the end of our lunch, he said, as a sort of conclusion: Well, we should take our time to live instead of thinking over the other side of the story.

I didn’t find the right words to answer him. I know I’ve been dealing with goodbyes since forever.

The question hit me later: what if it’s not the other side of the story, but a full part of it?

If we couldn’t live with death, how could we live?

I see you standing on the other side
I don’t know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We’ll never, we’ll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don’t know when I’ll be back
They’re moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you’ll be hearing from me baby, long after I’m gone
I’ll be speaking to you sweetly from a window in the Tower of Song

– Tower of Song, Leonard Cohen