Death is all around me. The apex of rotund lives, day always withers into night. Things end. It's in my newspaper, on my podcast, and it's back home. Sometimes I just want to disagree with the whole setup, but then it's there and everywhere but here. One moment the wifi is good, and the next you are thousands of miles, or even more kilometers, away. It gives the distance meaning I guess, makes it palpable. And then sometimes, you are two beers in and supreme, skiing a closed black run in Germany with the volume on high.
The days start to take on similarities. "Stay forward!" and "Edges uphill!" Then I go down the mountain, up the stairs, and order my first beer. The days are short, the nights are long, and the people carve grooves.
While death is presumable, life is never how you expect it. While I desperately try and grab hold of the reigns to the lives I still live, they just seem to march on uninhibited anywhichway. It's the busy weeks after all, and at least there is solace in the metronome of going to work and immersing yourself in teaching people a love you know.
And honestly, it is the life she inevitably taught me; a life overwhelmed in love. It is a life and a love I will always try to emulate, and perhaps the most important of all the lives I live.
