Death as a Journey

Once again, we walk through our private cemetery when winter blankets the land. We allow our feet to take us where they will, and soon we find ourselves standing before twin statues. These monuments, identical memorials for two members of the same family, are worn and weathered with the passing of the years. The features of the twin angels have become softened in much the same way that the snow now softens the details of the land. Lichen has taken root in the folds of the robes, and in all this stretching landscape of gray stone and white snow, it is one of the few touches of brilliant green, a subtle reminder if the life still slumbering at the heart of winter's chill. These twin angels with gossamer wings step forth in tandem to the great beyond. They lift their faces to a glory that only they can see, and if we look closely we can see that their feet are already treading on the clouds of another realm. They are companions traveling a road that can only be found once life has come to an end. We see them, now, in transit, but only their upturned faces seem to capture a glimpse of their final destination. If death is a journey, where might it lead? The first step, of course, is to move beyond the world of the living, and yet is that the only step along the road to the realm of the dead? What adventures lie ahead of these two companions who move beyond this world in perfect tandem with one another? And if we followed them, what mysterious vistas might we see?
Consider death not as the end of life, but as the beginning of a process, a long journey whose ultimate destination may never be clearly known.