- …..immediately after she died he sought to hoard her material possessions–just as many as he could feverishly take hostage within his sticky clutches–as though such a rapacious course of action would somehow draw her closer to him and help cement her legacy for a longer sojourn in his grieving mind. She had once possessed and handled those items and that fact alone made them sacred, or so he gullibly convinced himself. But then over time–many years, actually–he gradually came to realize the keepsakes she left behind were nothing–That’s right.…NOTHING of import and certainly nothing to venerate–no more a part of her true essence than the soil she once tread upon or the air she shared with other earthly inhabitants while she transiently graced the surface of our blue planet. Consciousness was key and its residual handmaidens, pluperfect memories and invaluable lessons learned at her behest, were the only things that genuinely mattered any longer secondary to her shining legacy. The aforementioned keepsakes were just small pieces of cosmic matter that had been on loan to her while she lived, and now that she was dead they held no more personal connection to her or anyone else than the water in the oceans or a wayward comet wandering aimlessly through the Andromeda Galaxy myriad light years away…..
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Fred's Soapbox 