The hour after my sister died I found myself asleep in a hospital chair dreaming of a wall sized art painting that featured ugly trolls holding crow marionettes. It was an awful painting and I had no idea why I was there. Right below the painting two lines of words were written on the wall:
Joy in Life
Joy in Death
Now what was that supposed to mean, I asked myself. There might be some joy in life but is there really joy in death? There was no doubt in my mind that I had experienced a lot of tragedy through my life. From the minute I was born, to this particular moment in time, death has always seemed to stalk me. It seems to challenge me at every moment and creates a permanent sadness deep in my soul. I had seen so many people die in front of me that others felt I knew the final secrets just by looking at me and they would ask:
“What do you do when someone dies?”
“What do you say to those that survive?”
I knew I could not stop life or death so I would silently ponder and say to them quietly:
“Joy in life”
“Joy in death”
