Tiny ladybug flies through the sky, drifting with the wind. It lands on a leaf and moves to its table for an aphid meal.
This ladybug we discovered a few years ago made a trip from Colorado to Utah in a package of basil. It was quite the surprising sight to see: a ladybug resting in the leaves. Fully alive and aware, it fought back the adversity of a frozen truck, countless packaging processes, and managed to end up in our kitchen. What an inspiring responsibility we had.
A few months later, Bella [our ladybug] lay comfortably in its terrarium. It lived a full life, and we knew it would come to this sooner or later, but it just doesn’t hit you fully. Such sadness. Cars moving in and out of the parking lot right outside our apartment, where she lies now comfortably, resting peacefully. I feel the earth in my hands as we put its shelter on top of where she is buried. My wife speaks her calm eulogy, singing it to sleep.
We accept death as a part of life, but it can’t help but prick us as we embrace it for ourselves or others.