If we think of death as lifeless, is living lifemore? Perhaps we all need to live more while we are still here.
Carter lies in the half-light, utterly still, eyes open as if admiring the heavens. As my footfalls approach, crunching the gravel he remains still and a cursory glance is enough to know he is dead. His lips are blue, skin grey, eyes dull with exploded pupils. He is as lifeless as the fall leaves that gust around him, though they at least get one last dance.
There is no such thing as a beautiful body when death has claimed the soul. There is no romantic corpse. Death is death. The flesh rots, the bones to follow, the hair matting into the soil. It is life that is beautiful, life we cherish, the soul we nurture.
I never wanted to see Josie in death, just to recall her vibrant smile, but everyone said it was part of letting go. She lay on the bed, tucked in as if it mattered, perfect "hospital corners." There was no greyness, simply a lack of the usual pink in her cheeks. My hand found hers without thinking and recoiled just as fast - so cold. Then I knew, knew why they wanted me to see her. It wasn't her at all, just her body. I was the only one in that hospital room and I had to know that. She was gone. I expected to cry yet in truth I felt nothing at all, felt as if I'd never feel anything ever again.
When the soul has departed, what is a body? When the warmth leaves the blood and the limbs become stiff, it is a ghoulish thing. Everything science can measure is still there - every atom - yet it isn't the same at all. The soul had been recalled to our maker and what is left is simply bones and flesh. So as I use my body to move Jackson from the bed he loved so much, feeling his dead weight, I know that my body isn't me - simply a necessary vessel for my life.
Inga, so fragile in life, was stoic in death. Her breath had become short just like her father's in his final days and her energy seemed to drain into the soil with each step. In her finest dress, a dagger concealed, bewitchingly beautiful, she went to the overlord. At her first chance she sunk the blade deep into his neck, staggering backwards into the guards as the walls sprayed crimson. By dawn she was hung, her lifeless body greeting the rising sun.