Death. That cold patient friend who waits with us for our entire lives, and when our time has come welcomes us without so much as a grumble about the weather.
That’s a funny way to think of it isn’t it? I guess it’s part of growing up, processing and learning. I’ve been overseas for two close family deaths. It’s hard. Sometimes you feel like it’s ok. You have rational control of your mind and heart. You keep yourself busy, on track. Then suddenly, there are those times… When you are alone in the dark and you feel lost at sea. You know the fullness of life is waiting but you can’t seem to reach it. Those are the painful moments, but they’re also the moments when you remember most fondly the warm, loving memory of your times together. It’s the time where you stand up in your lifeboat, and balancing precariously, you dance and sing and celebrate the person you know and love.
I guess that’s the best part of it. Those loving memories and moments of celebration for the time you could spend together. A celebration of life, of joy, of happiness, and experiences.