On Loss

30 01 2014

 

One fine day in the final semester of my undergrad, my beloved gentle giant of a mentor called his wife excited to go teach the class he had always wanted to teach, told her he loved her, then fell to the ground, dead. I remember how appropriate it felt when the storm clouds rang for days after, but then how cruel it felt when the sun shone bright again.

I learned a lot about myself that day, that week.
In the end; death always survives. But life is always reborn.

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