A love letter to death
Dear Reader,
This week I had a dark night of the soul. I can't tell you what it was about but it was very hard and very sad. A lot of things have felt hard and sad lately. To a lot of people. Maybe there's another dark night coming Tuesday; we are all on the edge of our seats.
Friday night was a new moon in Scorpio, in my house of [current loss]. My favorite astrologer said that it was a good moment to make a goal in this area of my life, something to focus on for the next six months. I put it off all day. How could I write a goal for the very part of my life where I’d been crushed?
During my procrastination I saw a second prompt on Instagram: Write a love letter to death. This activity felt more aligned with my current situation. I gave it a try.
Dear Death,
You come when I don't expect you. You bring me to my knees. I don't like endings. Crying feels like throwing up. I know I'll be relived afterward but I'm scared to do it. Sometimes I try to hold it in and it makes me sicker.
But you, Death, are unavoidable. You stay right where you are; you hold me. Like the perfect lover, the leading man, you tell me in your cowboy voice, “I'm not going anywhere.” You set a heavy hand on my shoulder and I know that it’s time to set down my expectations and grieve. I lie on the floor next to the toilet and notice how sweet and cool the bathroom tile feels against my cheek. I let my eyes close.
You are true to your word. You don't move until I’m emptied out. You don’t leave until everything is done and I’m left with nothing but that day after stomach flu feeling. Shaky and weak, hollow as a Halloween pumpkin. Ready to start again.
Death, you clear the way for unplanned joys. You cut back a year’s worth of growth, more, taking with it all the blooms that are not yet spent. We cry and cry. And then a hundred more grow in their place. More than we could have dreamed of.
You are everything and nothing. You are the new idea not yet formed. The lover I haven't met yet. The new friends who will hold me upright the next time you come around.
Death, you are special. You are relentless and you hurt but you are also necessary and transformative.
In order for this to be a love letter I need to write the words I love you. But when I try, I find that my fingers are shaking on the keys. Can I love death? Do I love death? I try to love all things and death is all things. I try to love change and death is change. I hate to cry and I love to cry I hate death and I love death. Death loves and hates me too. Is this a love letter anymore? I’m not sure.
The night after the new moon I sat at my altar and I did the ritual. I made the goal. This is what I wrote. I DO NOT GIVE UP. If the past year has taught me anything, it is this. I. do. not. give. up.
Death might come again tomorrow. That stomach flu feeling. That emptiness. Nothing to do but feel it. Feel it and let it empty you out. And then say the words. I do not give up. Neither do you.
All my love,
Kate
P.S. If you like this letter don't forget to press the heart below.
