The light upon her petal skin, the heart that beat no more, the sound of her laughter still playing in my ears and soul. God, I miss her. God, I love her. Take good care of her. I pray you bring us back together in some other time and place.
She had been a flower all her days, the good seed that grew and bloomed. Only upon seeing her corpse did I really see that all that was her spirit, that all this time it was her soul I'd been in love with.
Upon the face of the elderly corpse were deep set lines of laughter, and though we had come to return him to earth, I was harkened by this notion of the good times he'd been part of.
She was pure water in an elegant glass, her vessel stands empty, her water has moved on. Corpse and spirit each recycled.
To the corpse comes the welcoming earth, her loving brown arms to cherish what she birthed. To the soul comes the light of heaven and a chance for rebirth and transformation. This is death. All matter and energy is recycled, that is both science and faith.
If you've never seen the transition from human to corpse, the moment the soul passes on, it is a very moving experience. If it is one you love there is a moment of grief, as if all the love you ever felt for them, every good memory sparks up, as if the soul makes this SOS for them to return. The cadaver, the corpse, the body without them is so very different. Seeing it makes it real in ways that are hard to transmit to the deep subconscious self in other ways. I guess this is why many cultures have open coffins.
I wanted him to laugh, to giggle, to say that this was all a big joke. No such luck. He had passed on, this was not him but a corpse, the vehicle he drove around all his life, his material home upon this plane of existence. I touch his skin, so cold. Whilst I am thankful for the time we had, when a one you loved passes on you grieve. There is a time of mourning, the ancients were right about that. Healing from loss takes more time than broken bones.
The corpse, the cadaver, was missing that soul-spark that made it a person, yet once it had been. Once it had laughed, played, been loved. There was a day they were born, a day they learned how to walk. There was a day they spoke their first word. Perhaps they danced and love music. Perhaps they were fond of sweet foods and exciting movies. Whomever they were, I hope they had good times and knew the beauty that living should be.
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