a love that outlives you

i have always wondered at the stars.

“why must you end?” i ask.

to make room for the after, they say.

“but i do not want the after. i want you.”

i feel them laugh. little one, they say. the after will come. and you must let it, for it is right.

“but you are beautiful, even while life is so ugly. what if the after is not beautiful?”

and what if it is?

i had not thought of such a thing before.

salt stings my cheeks, stars blur around me, and i weep. for even though the after may be more beautiful i still do not want it.

child, the sky implores. why do you weep?

“i am not ready,” i say.

such is love. such is loss. but still you go on, yes?

“how?”

how do i begin when all i can see is an end?

we do not sorrow. we rejoice. for our end is our beginning anew.

“and me?”

your love outlives you, little one. do not let loss take that from you.

i nod, a fierce sadness gripping me but an even greater love eclipsing it.

“will i see you again?”

you will be amongst us once again, little one, in time. beautiful things always return to the sky, yes?

then the voices fade, and i am alone.

but not truly. i feel the supernovae within me, the death of the beautiful things being replaced by whatever is meant to come after.

whatever it is, i decide it must be beautiful too.