the sweetness of decay

Lessons in love, loss, and living fully

I don’t want to brag (read: I do), but I have the best book club. Every month, a group of about twelve women and I gather to discuss a book we’ve collectively read, rotating through genres and meeting locations seamlessly.

Now I know what you’re thinking, and no— this isn’t just a wine club disguised as a book club. We actually discuss the books and engage in deep and meaningful conversation. The wine and charcuterie are just the cherry on top ;)

This month, we read The Collected Regrets of Clover by Mike Brammer, a novel about a death doula living in New York City. The story explores Clover’s role in helping people navigate the end of life, encouraging them to focus on celebrating life rather than fearing death.

It was a quick and easy read, yet packed with insightful, thought-provoking reflections that stuck with me after I finished the book, so much so that I keep rereading many of the quotes. Each one feels so important, so precious, that I find myself wanting to place them up on a shelf— like a collection of rare dolls on display for all to see.

I decided I simply could not wait for my book club discussion later this week to share. So, here are a few of my favorites:

“Instead of constantly asking ourselves the question of why we're here, maybe we should be savoring the simpler truth: We are here.”

This one really hit me. It’s a reminder to stop overthinking, to embrace the simple, beautiful truth that we exist right here, right now.

“Be cautiously reckless.”

This is a life motto I have lived by for many years. In fact, it was my original inspiration for the name “a walking contradiction” as it was the first contradiction I strongly recognized within myself. It speaks to the delicate balance of taking risks—living boldly but with intention, always with care.

“Grief is just love looking for a place to settle.”

I’m still thinking about this one… it altered my brain chemistry. Grief is such an unpredictable companion, but this perspective offers a tenderness; a way of seeing grief as an embodiment of deep love, love that doesn’t know where to go.

“... most of us are guilty of that with our loved ones. We get stuck in a routine and we look at them as we've always looked at them, without seeing them for the person they've become or the person they strive to be. What a terrible thing to do to someone you love.”

This quote struck me hard because it’s such a common pitfall in relationships—taking people for granted or failing to notice how they’ve evolved. It’s easy to get so comfortable with the routine, the roles, that we forget to see the person in front of us for who they are now— their growth, their dreams, and the shifts they’ve gone through. It’s a good reminder to stay present and curious in our connections, to always be open to seeing our loved ones in new, deeper ways.

“When someone has always been there for you, it’s easy to assume they always will be. And then, one day, they’re not.”

Oof — this one cut through me like a knife through butter! Life has a way of shaking us out of the assumption that our loved ones will always be there. In reality, people come and go, sometimes without warning, and when we least expect it, we can find ourselves having to navigate the absence of someone who used to be a constant presence. It reminds me to cherish those around me while I can, and not to wait until it’s too late to appreciate the depth of their support and love.

“The secret to a beautiful death is to live a beautiful life. Putting your heart out there. Letting it get broken. Taking chances. Making mistakes.... Promise me, kid,...that you'll let yourself live.”

This was the core message of the book for me and a message I think we all need to be reminded of. A “beautiful life” doesn’t necessarily mean a perfect one, but so often we hold back— afraid of getting hurt, afraid of making mistakes, afraid of all the mess and heartbreak. To die beautifully, we must first allow ourselves to live boldly, without fearing the possibility of brokenness. We must live in such a way that we’ve fully embraced every moment, every risk, every opportunity to grow. Living authentically, loving fully, and leaving nothing unsaid or undone.

After finishing the book, I was reminded of a poem I wrote this past Fall during a visit to an apple orchard. The themes were so intertwined.

What remains

I stare at the apples resting on the dirt floor,
skin beginning to bruise, their redness deepening to brown.
The sweet crisp scent of the ripe fruit fills my senses,
dancing with the damp scent of the earth.

I notice the apples with flesh spilling sugar into the ground,
a soft rot spreading under the skin,
melting back into the soil that once held it.

I watch and feel the pull of its cycle,
how even in the decay there is purpose.

I think of my own slow unraveling,
the ways I morph, soften and bruise with each season.
And I wonder what parts of me will fall,
what will rot away,
and what will feed the earth I leave behind.

As I observed the fallen fruit—the imperfection, the surrender, and the slow decay—I couldn’t help but feel a deep awareness of my own fragility. Life is fleeting, change is inevitable, and the uncertainty of what will fade and what will endure is always with us. Yet, in this realization, I found a kind of freedom.

For, like I found when reading the book, it’s only by embracing the inevitability of change and decay in our lives that we can truly open ourselves to the beauty of living fully and authentically.

So, here’s to savoring the moment, taking chances, and letting ourselves live fully — after all, we don’t always know how long the match will burn.

walk boldly,

Caroline