"Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in childhood when it first occurred to you that you don't go on forever. It must have been shattering - stamped into one's memory. And yet I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at all. What does one make of that? We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the words for it, before we know that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling with the knowledge that for all compasses in the world, there's only one direction and time is its only measure."
- Rosencrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, by Tom Stoppard
The circle of life has been an ever-present theme these last couple of months. Last weekend John and I attended a memorial service for the mother of our dear friend Nick Celeste. His mother, Ann, passed after suffering from terminal brain cancer for the past two or so years. The service was beautiful. It was filled with sunflowers, tears and memories - fit for the life of a strong, caring person. I am sad to report, however, this is not the only news of this ilk that has come to my attention. I do not take so kindly to report that over the past two or three months I've heard from friends of 6 deaths in various families - parents, uncles, grandparents - many significant people are slipping into an after-life, reincarnation, dust... whatever you believe in.
Evidence of mortality is never easy to swallow. And to hear of so many passings in such a short period is a pill even more jagged. I suppose its time to face the fact this sort of news is going to become more common - we're getting older. Period. But instead of dwelling on the loss, we should celebrate life. At funerals in India they wear white, for they are not in mourning: rather, they are there to commemorate beautiful memories of a beautiful life of a beautiful person. Its a custom I really wish would be implemented here.
Considering all this, I think it prudent to take this opportunity to celebrate life as a whole - to implement a living memory: to live as we would like to be remembered... and to make those nagging changes we've been wanting to make. There can be an inspiring spark in even the bleakest of moments. And, really, our dearly departed wouldn't have it any other way, wouldn't you say? I mean, it's certainly not easy... figuring out who you are and how you want to live... striking balance among all aspects. I've been trying to do this.... trying to make some sort of mark or etch and create memories worth remembering. It's a life-long process, obviously, and I don't know if it's working (and who knows if I ever will), but I hope I'm making my loved ones proud. Because you all certainly make me proud.
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