Do not be sad for me. Do not mourn.
For I know the secret of Death, a fate upon which you
Can only surmise, and speculate, and fear,
Until the day you, too, welcome this mystery to your bosom.
It does not matter whether Afterlife of doom or ecstasy embraces me.
You should not wonder if I am somewhere in the ether, or in a parallel universe
Still living or long dead, perhaps even perishing sometime before my birth.
I may not exist anywhere. But it is no concern of yours.
Your sole occupation at the present time is to live your life to the fullest.
You may have many lives, but if not and you only have this one brief breathing on a solitary Earth
Do not waste it on me. Or those who escaped the gravitational pull of living flesh.
Either we don’t care, or we don’t know, or we are looking down and watching.
And if we are watching, which you realize is highly speculative,
I expect you to dry your eyes, move on to even better occupations, and make me proud.
Brenda Cates Kilby
February 3, 2012