This Quintessence of Dust

Someone I know passed recently... I didn't know him well, but what I knew of him was this: That he joked with me, consented to a small interview with me, and let me take his photo. That I didn't get his interview up in time for him to see will forever wear on my mind.

It's been bandied about that a person never truly dies as long as their memory is kept alive. It's true to a certain extent, but leaves a bit to be desired. It's well and right to speak of someone's past deeds, words, and thoughts, in an effort to keep their memory fresh within our minds. But the part that goes missing is forward-looking; what they might have done, what they might have said, what they might have imagined. This is the true loss. The saddest thing I know is what might have been.

What do we do when we experience a loss? What should we do? As in all things, we need to shift the focus from "what's next" to "what's best". When someone's physical presence is gone, it's left to us to distill their essence down to energy, to a transferable power that can inform, enlighten, educate, or otherwise engender some good in the living left behind. How did this person live, and can we live like that? Do we have the need to integrate that person's experience into our own daily living? If we don't, will it matter?

It is no one's option to know how they will pass, only that they will. It is necessary to live in such a way that improves the lives of others, to benefit the whole of life; to do otherwise is an insult to the millions who have gone before us, paving the way. History does not judge us. We judge each other. On that final day, will we judge harshly, or happily? Now is the time to decide.

We forget the need for soldiers
For the sadness when a soldier has to die
The tearful parent's eye
Bringing into focus what needs watching
-- "One Will Be The Highway", The Loud Family