There’s a passage in this book that comes straight from my childhood. River talks about her father taking her into the woods to see the stars. My dad was fascinated with astronomy. I remember vividly him talking about the stars and constellations. Then he explained to me that the light we see is thousands of years old and that many of the “stars” died long ago, their light still traveling the universe. When I was a kid it seemed like a terrible thing. As so often happens, we grow up and live and view the world through different eyes. All things die. It is inevitable. There is no way around it. One day we’re here and the next we are nothing but memories, pictures in an album, stories to be told. But those stories, those memories are like the light from the stars. They give us a path to follow. They remind us of the love we were given. Nothing is wasted. Only transformed.
Memento Mori means “remember that you must die.” What I’ve learned over the last months is that it is only in the inevitability of death that we remember to live, really live. It is because this life ends that we should live it to the fullest, love as much as we can. Do one thing that scares you. Do one thing that intrigues you. Do one thing that helps another human being. So that in the end, death is merely a doorway. So that in the end there is only love.
This book is dedicated to my mother and father. They’re together again.
For the rest of my life, I will walk in your light.