To death, with love

I hope death feels like a sunset at the shore.

Something you’ve been looking forward to.

You’re still sad that the day is ending but you’re excited to see the colours change and the light go down.

I hope you get a good vantage point.

For the view.

As the dust settles and the water seems to be swallowing up the ochre from the sky, pulling you towards it, I hope you look back at the distance you’ve crossed with unfiltered joy. And have gratitude for yourself, for showing up and swaying with every wave.

You’re probably going to be alone.

But trust me, you’ll have the arms of everyone you love around you. A last warm snuggle as the night starts coming in and it reminds you of the time you stood in the Costco walk-in cooler section deciding between 2% and full fat milk for far too long.

I hope the clouds go gentle on you. They watch you, maybe let down a light mist but they don’t cover your life from you. They let you exist and experience this moment in its entirety.

I hope you remember that many before you have seen this sunset and many after still will.

I hope you hold space for your tears, about all the years that have passed and all the ones that didn’t. I know it feels like you could fill up the entire ocean, and to be honest you probably could. But today will just be enough to soak up your limbs as you stretch out your toes towards that last bit of orange.

And I hope that you go knowingly, knowing this love I hold for you as the sea inhales every part of you.

As you let the blue wrap around you, warping the air out until you finally feel weightless.

I hope it feels like that last exhale when you’ve been holding your breath for much longer than you thought you could at the end of an outdoor guided yoga class.

I hope it feels like the rush you got when you first went hiking and looked up to see the trees gathered all around you.

And most of all, I hope it feels like coming home. To me.

With love.