Ginger

Once again death calls our game. And exposes it for what it is. A game. A charade where, like five year olds, we play house or work or cooking, or even husband and wife. Death breaks our illusion of immortality. And for some of us, we treat life in such high regard that we will try our utmost to stop death in others, as if it will somehow keep our nice and comfortable and happy game of life kosher. We save other people's lives in order to save our own souls. And when we fail, the sense of guilt that we could and should have been able to do something to save that person's life is more a reflection of our own insecure immortality, not the grandiose feeling of being an omnipotent demigod.

So now we know. And we are yet again reminded. That life means death. And death means life. And that this reality is by far the hardest fact of life to live by...

In memory of ginger who passed away peacefully in my arms yesterday morning.