Despair and loneliness emerge to fill death's vacuum. Rushing together they implode into a blinding light: grief's vain attempt to fill the void. Next to me she walked. Coerced, I bid farewell to the life partner with whom new life was created. In death, as we vowed, we part ways from the physical.
I gaze into the mirror and the refection of my own mortality stares back. Generations past and dead hover under the reflected skin waiting to emerge. A new wrinkle. A freckle. Is that my grandfather I see, or his grandfather? I too shall die, return to dust, and join them. Will it be tomorrow? Next year?
A meaningless question. Unanswerable, I hope. So I hold on. Hold on well to that new life. New life with a boundless capacity for love where before, long ago, existed nothing. Life again. Love again. Random carbon and oxygen and hydrogen and nitrogen now embrace, become life, and are anointed by love and commanded to love.
Because just as certain as death, is life. And life begets love. And thus we prevail. In the end is the end but it does not end. Perhaps not in me, but through me. For we are commanded to love. Two stars are attracted by gravity and one is destroyed. Gravity ceases. Without one, gravity is lost. Two lovers come together and one is destroyed yet love continues unabated. What other force of nature can make an equal claim to continue, to become stronger, once it's source is vanquished? Gravity, I thank you for holding my feet to Earth, but what else are you good for? Love, you on the other hand, create yourself over and over again. You hold me up. You lift me higher.
Ashes to ashes over-simplifies. In between the ashes we love one another and sow and reap new love again. And again. And then again once more.