In an instant they were gone. Not a word to be heard, nor an embrace to be savoured.
In the blink of an eye, the cloak of darkness takes the final breath of life.
Afraid. Alone. Absent.
Yet still so alive, that my aliveness can be felt in every cell.
A soul has left; yet so transient is the time, that human life continues to move forwards.
Pick up. Move on. Let go. Don’t make a scene.
Words have limited meaning.
But what is a scene?
Like a Shakespearean production, life is art.
Every emotion and every experience an element on a canvas, shaping the masterpiece that is life into something that has meaning and purpose, with its honest imperfections for all to see.
A scene allows us to witness the beauty of life, in its most raw and vulnerable form.
It is the platform through which we confront our mortality, witness the journey of life and notice the beginning and the ending of all things.
Be true to you. Be who you are meant to be.
Paint your canvas your way, whilst you still have the ability to be the artist.
Only through loss do I see the big picture. The scars are real, but this reality is not forever.
Some-day the scars will cease to exist.
Like some otherworldly experience, particles collide to form the shape of our humanness.
Until the day those particles realign to take a different form and our soul begins the next phase and the creation of a new canvas.
The portrait of life is our mark on the world, on the people we love and on the things that light us up from deep inside.
In every way possible.
And when the time comes for your physical form to move to the next phase, you will know that the creator of your canvas was you, and you made something truly beautiful.