| The Rose A. - Alone. From time to time, I feel as though someone is looking at me through a video camera and that person is moving farther and farther, and higher and higher away from me until I become some miniscule and insignificant thing. Nevertheless, it is my turn to look down on someone in the most literal sense. Surrounded in silence, I tentatively peer out my bedroom window into the blackness of night that welcomes my gaze in the almost deserted streets below. Two a.m. on my 20th birthday and I feel old and young at the same time. Compared to the silent child outside, on whom my gaze fell, I am the oldest woman in the world. I can almost actually feel myself drying out like an old rose in a deserted vase. B. - Beauty. Like love and friendship, beauty is not something for which you can consciously search. It is simply something that appears in your life and you must either appreciate it or lose it. You can find beauty in the oddest places - an unsuspected touch, a momentary glance from someone, or in a simple action or thought. Beauty is everywhere and in everything. However, it is merely the little things that bring it out for all to see. I clearly remember the first time I dragged a razor blade across my skin without the intention of killing myself. The light in my bedroom seemed dimmer than usual, creating shadows I would normally never notice. The one shadow that stood out the most was my own as I dug deeper into my arm with every movement. With each instant of searing pain, the hurt that was bottled inside slowly started to fade away. In those few precious moments where I was free of my emotional shackles, I found beauty by mistake reincarnated in the small drops of blood that were dripping onto the black blanket of my bed. C. - Cornered. Every slap hit me with unnatural force. Each time mother's hand connected with my face I felt the imprint of her hand reddening and burning my cheek. I rose up my arm in defense and my wrist collided with hers repeatedly as I protected my face. A big bruise remained on each of our wrists, creating a connection between us that was very new to me. I always feared ever being anything like my mother. She then proceeded to go around hiding from the world until the bruise faded. Yet again, I felt trapped in a corner like a spider's prey that cannot move as it waits for that moment of death that always accompanies his or her freedom. D. - Death. My soul seemed as if it flew into the ill-tempered night as I realized that without death, life would inevitably be meaningless. At one point or another, someone will hear the familiar words, "I wish I could live forever." These words are the most nonsensical that one could ever hear. Immortality is a concept that strips humanity of its right to dream. If we were all to live forever, there would be no nagging in the back of our brains to accomplish as much we can in the shortest amount of time possible; there would be no little voice pushing and prodding us when we encounter the problems of everyday life. We would undoubtedly become passive little people that think, "There will forever be another tomorrow to make something of myself so why bother trying now?" Death equalizes and humanizes us all - it gives us the capability to feel, think, and dream; it gives us a sense of time. Death is a way of life; it is an ending to a story to which you hope and pray you have done justice. E. - Eulogy. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He guideth me in straight paths for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. I will fear no evil. For though art with me. Thy rod & Thy staff they comfort me Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou hast anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely, goodness & mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I shall dwell in the house of the lord forever� We are here to say goodbye to Esther Libstug. Every time my great-grandmother stepped into her children's home, she would ask for a glass of water, and every time she asked, there was a glass of water sitting on the table waiting for her. My great-grandmother was like a glass of water, simple yet so nourishing..." |
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