Day 3468: Forget Me Not

God, I don’t know if you’re there, but if you are, don’t forget about me.
And you, the last conversation we had was an irreversible argument. I was prepared to forget you forever.

I did that with a lot of people. But I argued with you because I loved you. All I wanted was for you to love me back. You once told me, “Maybe it’s because I’m bad at loving people.” I don’t think that was true – you didn’t make as much as an effort with me. Still, I loved you. But what does that mean, to love someone?

Was it really meaningless? Are all loves doomed to perish, buried six feet deep, signifying nothing? Maybe. But it meant something to me, and perhaps that’s all that matters.

If you’re not simply ash and dust upon a barren earth, if you’re watching over me somehow, set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm. A poet once said that love is strong as death, and it becomes the very flame of the Lord. [i] [ii] I think there’s truth in that. It’s interesting, that metaphor. Love burns and endures by caring for it and kindling it, tending to it. It is the light by which everyone sees.
So what does it mean love is as strong as death? Maybe it’s the kindness we show to each other never goes unreturned, in one way or another. Kindness and love is something we carry with us, always – unconsciously. It’s something that lives on through us, to each other. In that sense it surpasses death, maybe. It perseveres. [iii][iv]

We are living proof of that.

Our parents pass down their genes to us, a product of reproduction, and we pass down ours. We are living monuments, our DNA inscribed with our ancestors’ genes. [v]

We pass down our love and kindness to those we love, and they pass it down to theirs.

The pains of death gives us back to the Earth, and we become part of Creation again; we feed the decomposers and the producers with our bodies, and they give way to life. [vi]

We teach ourselves, our children, that the sickness of Death is not a sickness at all – it is a natural part of life. It reminds us that the things we hold onto are not things to be held onto at all. And I carry that with me, even if no one else does.[iv] [vi] [vii]

So despite all our love disappearing into ash, did it mean anything?

I think so.

Even if it was a cry echoing into a boundless void, made in vain.
And is my faith in God wasted now? [viii]

Perhaps.

But isn’t faith made despite the lack of any reason?
God, if you’re there, don’t forget about me.
Just like I won’t forget the seven billion that perished.
Just like I won’t forget the one I love.
Forget me not.

Please.

[i] Song of Songs 6:8
[ii] The Testaments, Margaret Atwood
[iii] Works of Love, Soren Kierkegaard
[iv] The Plague, Albert Camus
[v] I Saw Satan Fall Like Lightning, Rene Girard
[vi] The Rotation of Crops, Soren Kierkegaard
[vii] The Fountain, Darren Aronofsky
[viii] The Tree of Life, Terrence Malick