Beautiful Tragic

There is beauty in tragedy.

Tragedy is a willow tree dissolving back to the earth. Of course, there are the benefits that it will bring to the soil. Emerald blades of grass will one day grow in its place. They will paint the landscape with flowers of a thousand colors, and feed a forest of life. However, I'm not talking about the "circle of life".

I believe there is something beautiful in the death of the willow itself. Regardless of the radiance of a life, only when it fades, can we see its real value. Only in loss, in those darkened rooms of grief, do we discover where true light exists.

Remembrance pours out from a passing soul. It rekindles our lives. One by one, ribbons of color find their way into our memories. They move us backwards in time, reminding us of all those moments that somehow slid together like drops of rain on a window, drawing out the long line of our years.

This is the final gift given to us by every soul as they slip from our lives. As they fade away into morning light, they give us back the texture of life. They trace those individual moments that we would otherwise have forgotten. As smooth or as jagged as the days to come may be, for a short time, they will be real again. They will be mountainous, they will be blinding, and they will be real.

Death is no less beautiful than life. It is the edge of a diamond. It is the last page of a novel. It is a frame that defines the canvas. It is not a mistake, or a flawed design that ends life. It is a purposeful conclusion that makes us rare and irreplaceable.