I am standing on the seashore.
A ship spreads her sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
I stand watching her until she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, “She is gone.”
“Gone where?” The loss of sight is in me, not in her.
Just at that moment when someone says, “She is gone,” there are others who are watching her coming.
Other voices take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”

And that is dying!

– Anonymous –

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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