Death, A Theory Poem by Nicholas Errico

Ralphie passed away 3 years ago this coming November. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of him.

Not. A. One.

As an atheist, I found it difficult to try to come to terms with his death. My views on death don't line up with anyone else I know. To many, Ralphie moved onto a mystical utopic place where all good people go, awaiting the reunion with their loved ones. Unfortunately, I know that when Ralphie's heart stopped beating, that was it. That was the end of his existence. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize how I was wrong. I know I will never have a chance to speak to him again. No last conversation. No last beer shared. But I know now that he is not gone. I see him every day when I look in the mirror, or when I talk to mutual friends. He's there, clear as day. Even in the little things I catch myself saying or doing. It's Ralphie. So, he never went away; he never left. And death isn't as black and white as it seems. Life isn't as short as people tell you. In fact, our legacies carry onward through time, passing from one to another. And therein lies the meaning of life: to pass on our experiences, our wisdom, our love.