The day begins at 7:50 AM with a death; the day ends with a death.

A woman commits suicide; the partially eaten pheasant carcass lays on the road as I enter Clovelly.

Not sure how to write about these two events. I’m very conscious that I’m removed from these events; I’m very conscious that some reading the post may be very closely involved with death.

Yet, I sense a compulsion to try to put a few words together. Part of the compulsion is that as a part-time romantic, I expect beauty and peace as I walk. Only beauty and peace!

I wonder about the person. Before leaving this morning, my BnB host tells me “When you leave the house, you’ll have to walk to the left to get to the path. The police have closed off the road outside our house to the right. A suicide.” Only later a report says that she is a woman. Who was the woman? Why suicide? What about family or friends? So many questions.

The carcass of the pheasant. Since they rest in ground over, some predator got ahold of it. As Eddie, friend and biology colleague use to say, “Nature is all about sex and death.” How true.

While the occurrence stays with me, I meet Frank, a former Bristol police officer and detective. A wonderful spirit and conversationalist, we talk about his years on the force. He also shares that he is fighting prostate cancer. “Going well right now thankfully.” Despite the pain and the future uncertainty, he is a spirited fellow! A low-key exuberance for life.

I know the right abstract words. We, and everything else that lives, is finite. Everything that lives is mortal. Although true, the words allow us to think about such realities from a distance. The two deaths actually remind me of the felt feelings in a world of death. A scared gratitude, a watchful trust, a vulnerable physicality. From my perspective, the invitation for accepting forgiveness, for boundless hope. Of course, not only pain and death, but also life and hope, so much more.

There is more to this walk than just peace and beauty. There is also more to this walk than death. In my final couple hundred yards into a Clovelly, I’m escorted by 10-15 young pheasants. I guess they still enjoy the path and the woods even though one of their number has died nearby.

In a very different situation, with a very different hope, an Ancient writer felt anguish. “How long shall I have anguish in my soul and grief in my heart, day after day?” The Ancient writer felt pain. For the woman who died, I hope for a deep, deep release. For friends and family, I hope for a restless, but eventual peace.