The finality of Death is so annoyingly- final.  One minute here, the next minute, good for good. The second most pivotal point of any human life. It’s the end of chances, the end of efforts, the end of tries. The end of hope. 

And most definitely the end of love.

Because love is what you do, give and share.

You receive as well as give it. 

And when one dies, it ends.

 You can do nothing but yearn. 

What, then is the point of life?

We are living to die. 

Dying slowly every day. 

We all are. 

The difference is the length of time. 

We can’t escape it.

Desperately we hope to. 

Not so much for ourselves. 

But for those we love. 

None of us can. 

Certainly, we perish. 

Why, then do we live?

Why, then do we hope?

I wonder.

We think we die once.

We hope to die once. 

It’s a wrap. 

To living.