Death is a weird size. It pulls people away from you, removes them from your life, even though it doesn’t feel like they’re really gone. Because how could they be? How does someone just disappear like that? The body is still here, but it is cold, unreacting, and does not wear that wonderful smile that you used to see. It is scary. Often also because death leaves a big, dark mark on a big group of people, a dark mark that will never recover. A hole that can never be re-filled. Death is cold, dark and evil, to us. Because it takes the people we love, people we always thought were invincible. It is wrong, and it hurts. But at some point, when you have dealt with death enough times, the hurt changes. It will always hurt. Losing hurts. But there’s something else. A certain anger. A certain fear. A certain feeling that it was coming, and it will come again and again and again, and it will keep un coming, until it is your turn, and when your turn is gone with the wind, the world is still standing, though you are no longer in it, with that smile and those knowing eyes.
Death is certain. We cannot escape it. It is inevitable, and we just have to live with it, deal with it, every minute we live. Nobody knows what comes after. If anything even comes after. Death can be cruel or merciful, depending on the circumstances under which it arrives. If it is at the end of a long journey of illness, medication and pain, it is a merciful bliss for both the sick and the mourners. They will no longer see this wonderful person living in hell. But other times, death comes without the slightest warning, crashing into our lives, messing with our heads and pulling away someone that we can barely live without.
But life goes on. Time creates a filter over that empty hole, covers the dark mark, so it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. But, as time goes on, another death and another hole and another dark mark draws nearer. And your own does as well. Inevitable. Certain. And all we can do is cope.