Light made more brilliant by that pitch.
Sadness, love, joy, they coexist in the same heart space - this trauma, this loss, this grief that rips like a grappling hook to the gut.
The wound is rent, but the glowing beloveds pour in love to wash healing over the gore unhindered, the skin of resistance too hard to regrow.
Light radiates from the crack between loss and life, between living and the abyss. From the thrill of being alive in the face of death.
There is pain and privilege in being present, of staying hand and hand till the darkness takes them forward alone and they are gone towards the light.
Relief in the end of suffering.
The primal wail of loss.
We remaining beloveds are left to set the candles flickering in celebration and honour of his shining life.