What an interesting question. I immediately thought of the descriptions of the look and texture of death, from deaths point of view, in The Book Thief. Slightly different I realise, but that’s where my memory went. My own view of death and what the word evokes has changed since I lost my brother. I now see it lighter, more colour. Almost a shimmer. To me, it describes a thing that will happen, after which time I’ll see my brother again and continue the rest of my journey. If that makes any sense 🥴
bleached bone white. amazing. mine is a glittering expansive white. with an inky black for a moment. Death is the doorway for so much within us. and the ultimate thing to face as it is.
Such poignant and reflective words Matthew. Death does that, I think. Sends us to existential pondering. Death is black with white spots, like when the old TV stations turned to static, quiet, still white noise that fades to no thing......
That was a truly reflective one and I too am pleased you survived to tell us your colour of death. You made me think, and at first it was also black. When I was very unwell with pneumonia at the age of 30, death felt very grey looking back now. But as I just thought about all the people and especially my dear cats in my life who have died, I have to say that death each has its own distinct colour according to each of them and how they all lived their lives.
I'm glad you survived death. I've been through that experience myself and I know how it can change us and call into question everything we think we know.
For me, death is white, just like loneliness. That's what death is, an immense white loneliness. I wrote a poem about it that has already been published on my blog here on substack. The poem is called “White loneliness”
What an interesting question. I immediately thought of the descriptions of the look and texture of death, from deaths point of view, in The Book Thief. Slightly different I realise, but that’s where my memory went. My own view of death and what the word evokes has changed since I lost my brother. I now see it lighter, more colour. Almost a shimmer. To me, it describes a thing that will happen, after which time I’ll see my brother again and continue the rest of my journey. If that makes any sense 🥴
A poignant reflection Michael. Deeply felt. Glad you survived the prognosis. And I’m sorry for your loss.
Death as a colour, would be shades of charcoal and smudges of pale grey, like a fog at dusk, almost colourless, until you come out the other side.
bleached bone white. amazing. mine is a glittering expansive white. with an inky black for a moment. Death is the doorway for so much within us. and the ultimate thing to face as it is.
Such poignant and reflective words Matthew. Death does that, I think. Sends us to existential pondering. Death is black with white spots, like when the old TV stations turned to static, quiet, still white noise that fades to no thing......
That was a truly reflective one and I too am pleased you survived to tell us your colour of death. You made me think, and at first it was also black. When I was very unwell with pneumonia at the age of 30, death felt very grey looking back now. But as I just thought about all the people and especially my dear cats in my life who have died, I have to say that death each has its own distinct colour according to each of them and how they all lived their lives.
I'm glad you survived death. I've been through that experience myself and I know how it can change us and call into question everything we think we know.
For me, death is white, just like loneliness. That's what death is, an immense white loneliness. I wrote a poem about it that has already been published on my blog here on substack. The poem is called “White loneliness”
"thus revealing to the world
all the shades and variations
of a white, so white,
like a sorrow that lingers
forever staining the eyes" https://rolandoandrade.substack.com/p/white-loneliness
Thank you for your stark, honest feelings and thoughts. Very moving indeed!