Life of Death
Clueless in those final moments, I stood over you, watching the same stars you had fallen asleep under. The cold air rippled with each of your shallow breaths, each mushroom cloud more diminutive than the last. I knelt beside you, cradling your head in my lap, whispering tight-lipped lullabies, sweetly brushing your hair, hoping to offer your physical body some comfort in its final moments of animations.
When your superficial breathing barely caused your chest to rise and fall, I reached for the glass jar in my pocket. Its lid was eager to pop off. While the jar itself was glass, inside was the darkest of a moonless night except for a sea of primordial hues that rotated, suspended in their abyss. It was curious. I reached in to scoop up a handful that hardened into something that could be mistaken for a black rock you might find along with a riverbed. Inside, however, the center maintained its fluidity, and the colors inside spiraled and danced.
Inside it was the ghost of madly blooming quasars and the echoes of exploding stars that lit up the void that could fit in the palm of my hand. A moment of any moment in time, captured and preserved; ready to be shared so you may return home.
Fingertips gently pressing up just inside the curve of your jaw - for a second it's like I’m cradling your head, your warmth still radiating into me - before I apply gentle pressure and your jaw unhinges open. Only a trained nose could detect the first wisps of forever-sleep on your breath. Gingerly, I place the perfect stone in your mouth and after guiding it down, I sit beside you and wait.
It wasn’t a long wait. Light burst from you; the hues racing across your skin, shifting as it danced over your tender flesh. Your life force’s light washed over the curve of your hips, kissed the bare skin of your chest, and disappeared back through your parted lips.
Internalized, the dazzling light turned to a spring-bud green. The glow watched me through the thin veil that protected your body. For several minutes before sinking deeper into your bones, it observed playfully, like a wistful child, it knew its task but dragged its feet.
When the glow faded, I touched your hair once more. Running my fingers through the thousands of soft strands, cherishing the unique form your life took; the colors, smells, and textures. I traced the scars I could easily see, and still, I whispered the lullabies.
Sleep tight, sweet child. It was equally wish and command.
The green glow was replaced by a purple one. It grew, growing bluer and more vibrant until it could no longer live in the body you had borrowed. The glow emerged, interestingly, it held its shape. I could even see the outline of that bright, new scar you’d gotten a couple of months prior in the car accident. Maybe you weren’t ready to go yet. Your light was so strong I could see my own shadow shimmering out behind me across the fresh snow.
Perhaps I should’ve waited for you to wake up. A tear escaped me as I turned to leave. I didn’t want to cause pain. Truthfully, your spirit only summons me when it knows it’s their time to go home. It doesn’t make death swifter or kinder, and it doesn’t erase the anxiety of having guilt for taking one too soon.
Your light vanished. And again I was the only shadow present.
Alone, I’d bring the glow of death to four others that night. I’d watch the colors shift as life faded from a human body. I’d collect priceless memories of what each soul had accomplished during that life and I’d honor the flesh that housed divine consciousness throughout their lifetime of hardship and adventure.
I may not have been there at the beginning. But I’m there at this end, to guide the soul to what’s next, to tenderly cradle you as you return to your bed of stars. Each life, each reality, as unique as the flecks in their eyes, the chances taken, the mistakes made, each as unique as the stars.
