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?