Death is an asshole


My head is confused, my emotions are subtle and nearly flat.
I don’t really know how to go, so I go as I always have...with perseverance and faith, inconstancy and doubt.
I write that and ponder how one death,
albeit the most important death other than my own, can make of an entire world an alien universe?

I have survived nearly 18 months of grueling grief.
Had I been asked to choose between this and running a weekly barefooted marathon on broken glass, I would have chosen the latter.
But there was no choice, Death is an asshole that way, just shits on you and walks away.

But thank you, really, Death.
You exposed yourself for the fraud you are.
You dare to take their carrion flesh,
corpses are your trophies.
I shit back at you. Stinking Death.

Nothing you do takes the Love.
NOTHING.
That is exactly what you think you leave us with. Nothing.
But you are so jaded, having killed so many and most without even a thought for how loved they were…
But they are still loved and they are still alive in us. And you will kill me and you will kill my beloveds, but you won’t kill the Love we feel. You will do little more than mar the finish on a diamond facet. I am still here. I am still alive. And even when you have taken the last sentient being, you won’t have even touched Love.

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