March 8, 2010
Death is a stark harsh landscape – like a desert- and like a desert has its own beauty. Stripping the extraneous nonessentials away from something often exposes an innate and poignant beauty. Death reveals the incandescent spirit housed in a body. I do realize though that the dying process isn’t easy, or even often very pretty. Much like birth, death provokes intrinsic, genuine and fundamental emotions. I want those feelings – every shred of them.
I am not sure if I am just wired strangely, but like a dog, I want to roll in it. I want to experience every single aspect of Morgan’s murder and death- feel her bones, wear her shoes, and sniff her clothes. I am not sure if I am trying to imprint the last of her indelibly in my mind, or if I indulge in such intimacies to try to have the reality of her absence penetrate my disbelief. It was my privilege to watch Morgan come into this world; somehow it is also my duty to contemplate her death. I will try to witness the end of Morgan’s life with the same clarity and anticipation as I saw at her birth on July 24, 1989.
I will cherish and acknowledge Morgan’s spirit now that she is dead to the same degree I did when she had a body. How could I do otherwise?
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