death

Goodnight

Day is over. Night sometimes comes quickly. Is the short quiet dusk that scares me the most. We know it must come, we watch the sun sinking minute by minute, second by second. Breathing in the cool air of the evening, enjoying the rest descending from the heavens, admiring the vibrant colors of the closing day. 

It’s no wonder young loves watch the sunset together. The overwhelming splendor inspires us to hold on tight to the beauty next to us. The outward show of heavenly glory in the evening awakens our remembrance that there must be peace and good set aside for us. Daytime pleasures culminate in the finale of the afternoons. And a trusting connection between two people is a most tangible manifestation of that greater beauty that we can watch with our eyes.

But day is over, and night sometimes comes too quickly. Purple and grays shade over the bright magnificence that just was. Colors fade, memories fade, vitalities fade. Caught in between the dark and the light, both worlds fight for my attention. Bright memories, uncertain futures. Exposed and burnt, shelter in the shadows. Nothing is clear here in the dusky evening, and fears grow out of the approaching darkness.

Mostly because it will be time to say goodnight. Letting go of the light, calling in the black emptiness. Leaving things unsaid, undone, going to sleep. But I’m not fearful for my own passing through this world, I know there will always be something left unfinished. Rather I fear the sweet goodnight that may not be answered back. That the night will take over the life that keeps me breathing. That the voice I’ve trusted will fall quiet.

And when day is over, night will have come too quickly. Silence. That is the evil burden of goodnight. A sliver of silence ends each day, each conversation, each kiss. Wondering if I am now left alone to find the morning. Wondering if beautiful peace will still hold my hand at dawn. Wondering if this dark quiet is the new normal that I must eternally endure. 

Its no wonder young loves cling to each other at night. They must reach over to feel warmth of beauty and love that is hushed for a moment. Sleeping soundly in the emptiness, leaving things unsaid, undone, but assured by a simple touch in the middle of the night. And when that hand may be missing, I wonder. I worry. That my beautiful world will be darkened. That the sunshine will wake me cold. That I have already said my last goodnight.

But what if I have? Goodnight is coming for all of us. Sooner or later it will be the last. But every final goodnight will be followed by a glorious resurrection, so that there is no need to fear that lonesome goodnight. Fear of that final goodbye will only cause me to pull back my present passion. Scared of the last goodnight can only paralyze me so that I might not invest in the beauty that surrounds. Goodnight is not the end of this story, the mute midnight will not be victorious.

When the day is over, night always comes too quickly. But a better morning certainly follows on the horizon. This frees us to enjoy the radiance of the sunset, bask in the light that remains. Fear of goodnight only blinds us to the spectacular beauty of the evening.

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