What Death Takes Away

Six word photo story: Freestyle

A friend of mine died in August.

Not a close friend.

Someone I had known for a short while about a decade ago.

Facebook gave me the news.

Carolyn was 75 and cancer destroyed her brain and ended her life.

She was a vibrant lady, full of ideas and projects.

Now

I don’t know death.

I believe I never will.

When death comes,* I will be no more.

I will no longer be able to do what I am doing now.

In the photo, that’s me snapping and reflected in the painting.

Before I took the photo, I sat in a chair pondering my next writing project.

I looked to my left and saw our framed copy of Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks.

Many think Hopper’s painting represents the loneliness of a large city.

The human figures seem disconnected from each other.

The table under the painting is where my partner Rebecca and me eat dinner each night.

We face each other and talk.

Under an artwork about alienation.

I wanted to capture this irony.

And write about it.

Death will take all this away.

So I must mourn now.

And live.

*Mary Oliver wrote a poem titled “When Death Comes.”