Beauty exists in the middle of tragedy. A child gets cancer. A friend commits suicide. A parent is plagued by anxiety and depression. Sooner or later, such messes find us. If we wade into them with an exploring mindset, our discoveries can be startling in their beauty and alter our perspective on life.
When you see the dead are not treated with respect, something within you shakes. Not because you have to treat a body with respect, but because he is exiting slowly. It does not matter how that person lived, at least his death must happen well. Every human being must have that much intention to allow others to die gracefully.
In 1969, my father traveled to Japan on a business trip and brought back an elegant silk robe as a gift for my mother. They had been high school sweethearts. He was the gregarious student body president and she was the timid valedictorian. He wasn't one for giving gifts and she wasn't comfortable accepting them.