And she was now more spirit than body. Yet how one loved her familiar earthly form and wished it back.
A body is such a generous thing. It gives its all for us, and then, in theend, we leave this home of flesh and bone, and someone burns it up or buries it, and our soul moves on to be received by death, the midwife who will birth us into the next world. The body can’t come along. It gets left behind. Dumped in the fire, a bag of skin and bones. It doesn’t seem fair to part from this old, familiar friend and just throw it into the fire, never to be of use again. I’ll be sad to be separated from my arms and hands, my legs and knees and feet, my face, shoulders, my eyes, Georgina thought. How lonely to think of never seeing them again. They won’t be mine anymore, not even my heart. They won’t even be at all, and after all they’ve given to allow me to walk on the earth, I’ll discard them as I depart for the next world. I must be grateful to this body while I live in it.
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