Dealing with Death
From the Pen of Darkon of the Crows of Albion
It is easy in the troubled times we live in to see death as the cost of war. It is easy to be consumed with anger or despair. To hide away in a cocoon of rage this is easy. It is not wrong either.
Their lives have ended. Their stories though are far from at an end. In every broken twig they leave behind Enjrea remembers the fallen. Through the stories, memories, shared pain the dead are never truly gone. They can be haunting spectres or silent guardians. Just because they are not there to tell you how wrong or right you are doesn’t mean you still don’t know what they would consul you to do. The responsibility is your’s to carry on and carry them with you.
Vengeance would seem logical even nobel. The dead can surely rest easy with their killer rotting in the ground? The dead have no worries. It is all over for them, they don’t want anger they want peace. Above all they want to know those they left behind are safe, that there days weren’t ended in vain. Vengeance lives only in the mind of the living. Clouds the mind and blackens the pattern but again it is easy to hide
Every death is important. Every life a gift. Every day a beautiful triumph over the night before. These do not change with the ending of the life they are only made more important.
Remember the dead. Let them live forever in our memories. Let there names be said with the same familiarity and joy they bought. Never forget the lessons that both their life and sadly their death taught. Fight not them though. Not for the dead. There battles are done. There sorrows at an end. Do not blacken their memories with talk of an endless struggle. Their patterns are freed from such torment. The living they leave behind however are who need our help. They have lost as you have lost. A Father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, protector, guardian the list is endless. With every death the needs of the living grow. Fight for the living less there be no one left to remember the dead.
Laying patterns to rest are a chance for the living to reflect on the patterns passing and to offer some closure as much as they are for deceased to move on to the plain of ancestors and be freed from the vile threat of the un-living.
We live in deadly so would say desperate times. However a condition of all life is that it end. Every night must fold before the dawn. Every day must wither in the face of the dusk.
So with every dawn and as you stand at the gate every dusk. Remember the Dead. Fight for the living.