I came across this short passage suddenly the other day in Jeanette Winterson’s Written on the Body. In this radically shifted perspective I found myself able to move toward more radical acceptance of death and constant change. Maybe you will find something else.

Six bearers in long coats and white scarves carried the body to the grave. To call it a grave at this stage would be to dignify it. In a garden it might be a trench for a new asparagus bed. Fill it with manure and plant it out. An optimistic hole. (p 176)

“The Grave of Rowan Morrison,” Cathy G Johnson. Image found separately and used with artist’s permission.