dying colourfully
dying colourfully / words and pictures #2
A deciduous tree in autumn is at a distance, a true beauty. A kaleidoscope of perfectly harmonised colours. It’s as though the tree is throwing a party, and every leaf is invited. And it’s a really good party. You can tell.
Even mid-distance the tree is breathtaking. The way the sunlight glows through each leaf if you move your head in just the right way.
But look a bit closer and death is evident. The leaf that looks a luminous burgundy or scarlet or gold from afar, is close up a feverish rash of blotchy skin, lacerations and blackened extremities.
The leaves are dying.
When we look at a colourful tree in autumn, we are looking at death.
In our Western world we are not taught about death. It is something hidden away. Something known but swept under the rug. Imagine if schools had death education in the same way they have sex education or physical education. Now that would be progress.
Instead we just don’t talk about it. And we don’t get to know about it unless we have a curiosity to know more and go looking for ourselves.
I knew I wanted to spend time with my grandma’s dead body. It felt like the last goodbye to someone most loved.
I felt nervous about it. Not in a creeped out maybe she'll turn into a zombie way. In a, could I handle the emotion of it way. She was my favourite person.
Seeing her dead body was a relief. She looked like a marvellous plasticine sculpture. So lifelike, but so not. She was free from the flesh suit that kept on getting older, leaving her feeling frustrated and out of step with herself.
And it felt cold and hard, like a chunk of meat. All the same, it was good to see her. I guess a bit like visiting a memorial site that reminds you of whatever it is you want to remember.
But I still cried. Letting go of her was something I had felt fearful of ever since I had loved her. And that’s just the shitty, beautiful thing about the loving human heart - intense attachment has to go through the agony of surrender eventually.
Seeing that beautifully presented chunk of meat helped with that. She was not there on that silver platter. I'm not sure where she is now but I have some theories on that which I'll save for another time. She's almost always with me when I sit down to write, so I hope she's close.
Death is the great mystery. But so is life. So many questions, so many possible answers.
So many autumn leaves lighting up the world then going through a frenzy of colour and beauty before quietly and unremarkably drifting to the earth to dissolve into everything else, and reemerging as new spring growth.
I think we could learn a thing or two from autumn leaves.
Leonie x
