Can death be beautiful?
Death CAN be beautiful. As I marveled at nature’s masterpiece, those words repeatedly floated through my mind. I gazed at the leaves that still lingered on the branches. And looked up at the rainbow of foliage fluttering in the breeze.
I continued to walk. The crunching beneath my feet a jazz jam session of syncopated beats. Each step sounded different than the one before it. I glanced down and thought about the clear contrast.
These leaves were ready. Their time to fall was now. They ex"fall"iated with grace. I needed this reminder.
There is much to be learned from this season. We don’t know when our time is “up.” It is scary. I admittedly wish I could predict and control how long I’ll be alive. I wish we could know with certainty how long we have with those we love. But all we have is now. I’ve learned this painfully again and again.
This weekend is a year since my close childhood friend passed away. Thinking of him and others, crying as I write. Holding onto to memories.
Autumn has shown me that letting go, releasing what’s no longer needed, and yes, even leaving the planet, doesn’t have to be frightening. Trusting the timing of our lives—and ourselves—is a process. A tough, tender lesson for me I continue to learn. It is not easy.
I fell in love with fall as a child. I’m smitten with this season. Now I understand why.
“For me, fall is a reminder
to love gently and release
rather than holding on —
even when it hurts.”