Soul and flowers: letter to the dead
Should I be regretful or relieved that your spirit is no longer afflicted by the ugliness of this world? Should I mourn you or myself without you?
I don’t mourn bodies, it is nonsense. And I can’t mourn a soul, for it is back home. So what am I left with? Guilt, I would say. Because I blame myself with every chance that I get. You brought light into my life and my soul and I didn’t even realise that until you were gone.
And it feels absurd to say “I will never forget you” when I already did. Although I am a mosaic of you and others and just a tiny piece of myself. And even that tiny piece is made of your stories. And I really hope we will meet one day and you can tell me more.
However, I do not dwell in heaven or hell, for I believe the soul is immortal. Even if you are gone, I’ll find you in every flower, in every leaf that falls in autumn and in every piece of writing that I will ever compose. Because our life is like a flower: you are given a soul and you grow and grow and then one day you are gone. I pity the flowers for they have no mercy for the gardeners. Because they take care of the flowers and then one day they are just gone in the blowing wind like they never existed.
You were gone in the blowing wind before I realised and now I am left with the memories and grief. The pain will fade eventually and I will be healed, but it is a long way to get there. It only takes time. And throughout the process, I will keep your memory in my heart.
I will see you at the end of the rainbow. Yours truly.