Death & Life As An Art Form

I had an opportunity to get inside a coffin last week. How do you pass that up?

Death intrigues me. I wonder about it the same way I wonder about the dream world when I'm in the waking one. As I live & breathe, I ponder my own mortality. I don't think I'm morbid; death is the inevitable conclusion to life and an inescapable event we will all have in common.
It's there.
It's mysterious.
Its existence makes life all the more rich.

These thoughts lead to warmer, fuzzier ones of love. Despair is to love just as death is to life, and waking is to dreaming. To live fully is to give yourself over to each of these experiences, the only order you can count on is death will be last.
Suffering and joy should both be given into fully at times, often simultaneously.
I count myself charmed to have been awarded this life. Surrounded by love and support from my beloved family, and my extended family of friends, my life is an embarrassment of riches.
Having an excess of these things, it's my honor & duty to share with people who need what I have so much of.
Every once in a while, you get an opportunity to commit acts of love & kindness to people you hardly know.
It can hardly be considered a "selfless act", and as a matter of fact, leaves me grateful for the opportunity and feeling a touch embarrassed by the heartfelt "thank you"s received in return.
After last week's coffin ride and graveyard photography, I had a closer encounter with Death. A friend of a friend died in his home by gunshot. He & his girlfriend had just moved into the house 2 weeks ago. Let's call her "H".
This took place on H's birthday. She has no living family. Unable to go back to her new home and with no relatives to lean on, our mutual friend "D" stepped up to the plate for the aforementioned reasons. I said H has no family; in truth she has no living parents, she most certainly has a big, loving family.
I went with two other friends (family of my family) to the house to clean up and collect some of her things.
These two friends are men we'll call "K" and "T". I had been warned of what to be prepared for before entering the house and we all came prepared with gloves, respirators and cleaning supplies.
As we all got to work in what was the site of a violent and tragic end to a young & precious life, it struck me like a summer rain, how all I could see was love. What is more beautiful in this world than acts of love and compassion between people who are not even particularly close?
K & T are both big, burly, tattooed and pierced guys; it's safe assumption to say many people don't see them for the kind, generous, good spirited creatures they are. "Their" loss.
We were able to do something for someone during their mourning period, there's rarely anything anyone can do during times like these. I'm honored.
I packed up anything I could find that a girl would want from her house: hair dryer, sketchbook, art supplies, wigs, jewelry, pocket knives. I threw away anything I could find that was a source of bad odor while K & T steam cleaned the carpet and wiped down the walls.
I ripped leather off a chair and bagged & threw it away. I cut out a clean piece of leather to give H, as I knew she wanted a memento.
After a few hours we were ready to go back to D's and give H her things.
I'm humbled by this opportunity to be of service for someone during such a dark time.
I am grateful to have been in the presence of so much love.
I am not a bit surprised to see how life and death and love and sorrow are all amplified in tandem.
Through death, life is made sweeter.
Through sorrow, love is felt greater.
Through receiving, giving is made an art of love.
Thank you for the opportunity to hone my craft.