When death and mortality converge, all that’s left is confusion and uncertainty. Typically, I find comfort in the finite. To know that I have very little time left on this dusty rock is freeing, but, on nights like this, it feels suffocating. There is no joy in this feeling tonight, and no lessons to be learned. This isn’t about me finding great meaning in tragedy, but just one person of many grieving new loss.
I have difficulty with people younger than me dying. I would say that’s obvious, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore. We’ve lost so many people in the last three and a half years that there’s very little room left for grief. But when it comes, it’s like a splinter in the heart. We have to be careful when removing it because we could fully burst. I’m near there already.
To live or to die. To live and die. To live. We have choices and obstacles, faith and despair. They are within us, whether we want them there or not. But each day, we make a new choice, face a new challenge, and either lose or gain a little more of ourselves. In the end, we are the sum of every choice. I carry death and grief, and will continue doing so until I cannot anymore.
They are allowed to rest well, rightfully so, while we still find a way. The only thing that I ask is to guide us to a better tomorrow.
Rest well, Windham Lawrence Rotunda aka Bray Wyatt, Winfred Diggs, and Michael Robinson Jr.
The Marc Rob 