Death is Only an End

You always told me that everything has an end. That you had an end. That I had an end. I didn’t believe you until the day you died. That day stayed with me.

Light spilled out from cracks in the clouds attempting to block out the sun, filtering further through the leaves of the trees that towered over us. Butterflies and dragonflies flitted and hovered around us, their gentle hums like music. The grass tickled my arm as I laid by your side, arm around you.

“I hope you’re not about to cry,” you whispered weakly, a tear rolling from your cheek and onto mine. “Today shouldn’t be sad” you added. Nature agreed with you, but I could feel my heart breaking like a tree struck through with a bolt of lightning. I steadied my breathing and shook my head.

“No tears here,” I whispered back. I stroked your hair with my other hand, arm wrapped under your neck. Short blonde strands ran through my fingers as softly as the day we met. We were young then. Well, we were younger. It wasn’t fair. You still had so much life left to live, we both had so much time left to live together. “I’m going to miss you,” I said, the words soft breaths upon your ear.

Your hand slid up your blouse finding my arm resting across you. Your grip was weak, but you held to me as tightly as you could. A smile played across your violet lips; is that still your favorite color I wonder? “You better,” you said, your final laugh escaping your mouth. “The more you miss me, the happier you’ll be to see me again.”

I had never believed in anything of the sort. God? An afterlife? Those things couldn’t be real. God wouldn’t allow such tragedies. Why would He allow good people to come to such an early end? Why would a god make a test that was impossible to pass? And an afterlife? Our lives matter because of our deaths, right? What even is a life after life? Reincarnation? Another chance perhaps? I never believed in such things like you did, but in that moment, and even now, I wanted to. I want to.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said.

“Of course,” I whispered back, pulling you closer underneath the tree.

You once told me that this tree carried with it a tale. Its roots were thick, running up and through the ground, seemingly connected to the other trees near us and, supposedly, throughout the forest itself. Here, even death knew an end. The roots were like veins, stretching out and turning death into life, never failing to keep the woods thriving. 

“I love you,” I said, stroking your head once more and kissing you as I moved my arm, my hand joining yours. Your lips moved gently into mine. I pulled away, cradling your head. The warmth had vanished from you, your lips now cold. Your body had grown limp, your grip on my hand loosened.

“Wake up,” I said, nudging you and burying my face in your neck. “Please.” The forest's hum became a distant static noise, replaced by a hushed silence as if it knew.

 I stayed with you for hours that day. Tears finally fell now that you were no longer there to see them. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready to continue on without you. I held onto you as tight as I could, afraid that if I were to let go of your body that I would be letting go of hope itself.

Once the sun set however, the timing felt right. I kissed your forehead one last time, gently laid your head down against the tree, and I rose to retrieve the shovel we had brought. Movies always made it look simple, quick even, but I always imagined digging a proper grave would be a much longer process. Surprisingly, the movies had this one right, at least when it came to the amount of time. It only took a little over an hour of digging to create your final resting place at the base of the tree. It doesn’t sound like that long in the grand scheme of things. Years of living, only to be covered up by dirt in less time that it would take to go on a date. Of course, that time only accounted for the burial of the body. The burial of memories, of emotions, the grief…that burial is what takes the toll of time.

Time did, as time does, pass though. The days turned into weeks, months, and eventually years. In some ways I wish I could say that life never got better; the idea of life getting better without you in it hurt me in ways I couldn’t imagine hurting. Over time, however, things did improve. In some ways at least. I never met anyone after you; how could I? But I did continue to stay close with your family. Your sister finally gave birth to her baby girl two months after you passed away, and shortly after she married her fiancé she had been engaged to for the past three years. They asked me to be your niece’s godfather. Of course I said yes. We may have never had the pleasure of having a child of our own, but I made sure to treat her and give her all the things we would have wanted to give ours.

She asked about you as the years passed and she grew. Sometimes she would muse about how she wished she could meet you, and so I would tell her what you told me. Hope is something worth holding onto. 

Yes, everything, even death, must have an end. You had an end, and now as I sit here drawing my final breaths, lying in my own resting place, our resting place, all I can do is believe in the hope that you had. I feel the bark of the tree against the back of my neck. There’s a comfort from it I didn’t quite realize when we were there last time. Perhaps you did though. I blink and see a butterfly fluttering in front of me. It lands on my arm, offering its company in my last moment.

This may be my end, but it will only be my first. I’ll go through as many ends as I have to until I’m with you again.