There are only two things certain in life: Death and taxes.
As for the former, we could wax whimsically about what happens to us after, the vast spectrum ranging from complete and utter nothing to everything your heart desires.
The truth and rest assured, there is beauty to it, is that no one knows.
To those at the top, it’s frightening.
To those at the bottom, it is more uplifting than anything that exists in Arcadia.
The only thing certain that we get is something to remember us by.
A marker that will exist far longer than us or even the lives we touched.
On that memorial reads the same empty praises, loving mother, devoted father, caring son.
Some will have a symbol to show the world what mattered to them in their brief existence.
Ultimately, it is the mere tip of the iceberg for the lives they truly lived.
The shadow of a life lived.
The things that matter to most, their spouse, their children, their parents, will be representing but all the interesting facets that made them unique will soon be lost to history.
Whether it’s forgotten with them or their loved ones, all that will remain is a marker that symbolizes a mere shadow of who they truly were.
After all, what else can that tombstone do?
Tell us when they were born or when they died, the arbitrary statistics where the only thing that truly matters is that hyphen in between the years?
That hyphen that represents the life that was lived, the years spent in ecstasy or agony, the time they were in love, the time they felt lost, the time they gave all of themselves, the time everything was taken away.
A simple line containing everything that made a human well human, that one mark carved into the tombstone, the strongest allusion to life in the field of death around it.
That line crosses out for everyone but it shouldn’t be forgotten.
For as the Tombstone is the tip of the iceberg, that body lurking underneath is what matters.
It’s what makes the iceberg possible, it’s what makes the shadow exist.
Those memories of who they are is what matters, not a stone unmoving, unchanging, unfeeling.
It’s a mere representation of what really matters, the people who remain, the people who the person touched deeply in a way that will never be forgotten, the memories we will always share.
After all, life is what matters, death is the smallest fraction of it.
Tombstone? Don’t you realize? You’ve never represented death, you represent the life lived before their passing.
That obsession with where they’re going really doesn’t matter as much as where they’ve been.
If you only care about them at the end, how can you do your job correctly?
How can you make sure they go where they need to?
How can the tip of the iceberg determine what the rest of it needs?
How can the shadow decide what’s best for the body?
Do what you do best and bury your preconceived notions and represent the person the way a tombstone should.