Death is unplanned. Unexpected and undoing. Confounding and perhaps, even sobering.
Despite being marred beyond recognition by its startling arrival, death occurs and reoccurs. Forcing us all to reckon with the ways in which it pronounces itself into our lives.
Perhaps, as poet Koleka Putuma writes, it takes strength to grieve. A cruel, debilitating strength, to fall apart and bear witness to those whose brief passage here has come to an end. As the memories of a love no longer materialised in the present, loop and fold back into themselves, the strength wanes and fluctuates in its resolve.
