howdy family,

my mind scribbles about death are the same, but the conversations haven't been. frequency has dwindled as i've avoided the subject often, and a light feeling of shame has appeared. even though it is low wattage, it shines bright in an otherwise comfortably dark room.
 
my thoughts on death before they took dad in a shroud were quite simple: it's just different than life. not worse or better (comparisons are odorous), just different. if i can consciously experience the afterlife, that'll be nice. whether heaven or hell, if i can remain present, it'll be as beautiful as my time "living." if there's no consciousness, no anything, blackness, and i am left as nothing but a few molecules joyriding a hardened body, that'll be nice too. throw me in the ground in a cloth bag and let me fertilize the trees. let me bring the world oxygen. let life come from death. it will. it always does. matter doesn't disappear, it just transforms. and we're just fleshy matter transforming in a way that thinks we're more important than any other living thing on this planet. (comparisons are odorous.)
 
so dad's dead. or, rather, his body had enough. now he's vastly different.
 
i've started sculpting as an homage. finding the tools have been in my hands my whole life. his gift. his tools still hard at work, crafting. he crafted. sometimes stone, sometimes wood, sometimes tooth enamel. he's still moving with me. not his body, not his consciousness, but it's him. 
 
the thoughts on death are basically the same, but the feeling is different. my world is different. a new color, a new shade of reality. not bad or good. different, but all encompassing. 
 
i feel sad. i wouldn't call it grief. maybe my definition of grief is too limited. maybe i don't feel like i'm grieving because what i'm feeling can't be contained in a single word. what i'm feeling can't even be explained. i don't understand it, i don't need to. i don't need to define it or rationalize it or use some word as pithy and general as "grief." grief sounds like some bad time you get over. this has changed my entire world. this is a new world. this is death and rebirth.
 
i think i would want consciousness to continue for egotistical reasons. i want to retain my "i"-ness, my "me"-dom, see what it's all about through my limited perspective. instead i'll let go of it and see how confining that box was. when death find the body, the "i" will be gone too. but look at the trees above my dirt blanket and you may see a leaf shimmer. i've seen a few.

with love and lettuce,
tepper


p.s. if you feel someone might enjoy this newsletter, you have my permission to pass it on to whomever you'd like.