You died on a Tuesday. I knew it as soon as I walked into the bathroom because you were laying upside down, morbidly still. And insects don’t do that, if they can help it - I’ve seen a ladybug laying that way with its little legs flailing in the air, unable to right itself. I couldn’t help but turn it over gently, and I think any decent person would if they saw it struggling like that. It’s part of human nature to care for helpless creatures. Well, maybe for a ladybug, but not for you. People don’t tend to sympathize with moths, and that’s why I can’t quite explain the heart-wrenching grief I’m feeling now. 

You weren’t a special moth, either - nothing like that huge green one my dad brought me home in a jewelry box when I was 7, dead before I was able to meet it. Your nondescript gray wings didn’t have any sort of markings on them. You were just another insect, a nuisance trapped in my bathroom fluttering stupidly toward the light. There were times when I wanted to be rid of you - to catch you and release you into the freezing cold, guaranteeing death - but I could not find reasons to justify why your life was worth so much less than mine. So I let you stay. 

I got used to you - even grew to like you. Some mornings, while brushing my teeth, my mind would be wandering a million different places, when you’d fly into my face. You made me laugh at just the right moments. More than anything, you were Alive - you were another living thing who was briefly sharing a portion of my experience, and for that I loved you. My god, I cannot believe it - I loved you. And now nothing feels right. 

I didn’t give you a funeral, didn’t find an old jewelry box and put you in my collection. Maybe if I was still a kid and in my mind we were truly equals I would have. Maybe if I believed you had a soul. If I had a soul. 

I loved you and I wrapped you in a tissue, crushing your now-flightless wings.

I loved you and I never even gave you a name. 

I’m wondering why it had to be this way; not why you had to die, but why I had to be me and you had to be a moth. Hell, I could have been anything, but I had to be me. And I should be grateful, because I can do so much more with my life - I can make choices & fall in love & travel anywhere regardless of warmth. But I’m stuck here in my bathroom, still feeling awful, because of you. 

You’ve never had to think about dying. 

You’ve never had to think about anything. 

But, Moth, for your sake, I hope there is such a thing as heaven - something separate from my heaven, something just for you. You’re a simple creature and easy to please. All you’ve ever wanted was to touch the moon, my little Icarus - for you, heaven is nothing but soft yellow light. And you don’t have to fly toward it anymore. You’re already there. 

I can’t say I’ll ever attain the type of joy you must be feeling now, if that heaven does exist. But we are different, you and I, and perhaps you deserve it more. 

For this reason I am able to exhale and flush the toilet and walk away as your delicate body spirals into oblivion.

For this reason, my love, I am able to let you go.