More people in my life are talking about death as a transition. I get it. Using a different word helps lighten the load a bit. Death is such a final word. It implies a distinct end to something after which there is nothing or emptiness or some great vacuum. Sure, when we die our hearts cease to beat and our breathing which we rarely noticed, ends. What remains is eternal, kept daily by those we love, and those we didn't. Everyone we touch is affected. Everyone.
The world lost another child, parent, partner, friend. It happens every day, many times a day. We can't escape it. When possible, we let our hearts feel, let our hands miss the physical presence, our ears listen for that voice, our eyes search the room for him/her who will not be seen again. When possible, we hold to the knowledge that our beloved has dropped the confines of a miraculous mechanical form and is now living everywhere. The transition takes place. We honor that.
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