Recently, I learned that death is as ubiquitous as life, perhaps more. Death is all around us. The death of people in your life of course but more subtly than that, the death of a relationship with someone, the death of an activity, of a visit, a day, a breath. The death of the past allows for the present and with time, the future. Death of what is allows what will become.
I have never been to a funeral myself but in media, the fatal shot, the last breath, and funerals are the only place I knew death(you can infer I like crime shows). I thought death was something concrete. The last end where there is nothing after. The death of a person, of a life. I thought death was rare although, at a certain age you entered a period where death, the death of lives around you would become an almost everyday event. That at a certain age, attending funeral services would become the precursors to "Hey, do you want to get a coffee?" A kind of mundane quality would start to blanket the event.
I never thought of death as an everyday occurrence having nothing to do with a heart that stopped beating. But it is, a shedding of dead skin of a layer that is no longer useful. Sometimes this shedding of dead skin is painless and barely warrants awareness and other times your skin burns with an invisible fire. Many people rely on their eyes, on the visibility of an event to recount whether what they are witnessing is true or not. Something invisible, intangible is difficult to back up, to measure, to believe. You might even doubt yourself if you're the only one feeling the fire.
Staying in the past was only burning me. I had to advance. I had to tear my old layer from my skin as it was no longer inhabitable, ignorable.
One cannot heal in the same place where where illness was contracted.
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