Blazing Glory of Death

All of the trees are turning in Michigan's upper peninsula.  Although I was "supposed to" leave for my journey by late June, I found myself being quite glad to be on this particular road on this particular day in late September.

And as I do every Autumn, I considered the fact that the brilliant colors on the trees are a direct result of the leaves dying.  Rather than simply hang their leafy little heads and fall helplessly to the ground, they explode with color.  They send out one, last, blazing hurrah to the world before accepting their time and surrendering to the pull of the soil below.

I saw a parallel to my life right now.  While one thing, one part of me, is dying (my marriage), I am not hanging my head in woeful despair.  I am on my way; I am blazing with color.  I will soon allow this partnership to surrender to the soil and become recycled into new lessons and new relationships and whatever else life will use it for that I can't possibly know right now.  

But before I do, I will fly across this country, leaving a brilliant streak of color in my wake.  I will take the remnants of love from my marriage and spread them behind me like a colorful cape.  I will not paint with colors of anger, bitterness, or self-pity, but only of love.  And I will bow to the trees for their yearly inspiration to not only live well, but to die well too.