My sister had her fourth child today.
Even though she was pregnant for 9 months, the moment the baby is born everything changes, for her, for her kids, for the family and extended family.
Life is never the same: a daughter, sister, niece, grand daughter. The family dynamics are altered. There is another. Another birthday, another mouth to feed, another hand to hold. Life is different.
And so it is in death.
I think of my loved ones, my family, my friends. There is a naive sense of permanence from one day to the next. A continuity.
Just as I take my next breath for granted, so too do I take my loved ones for granted.
Until one day they are gone. Disappeared. Into the ground. Into dust. Exploded into millions of tiny fragments. A collection of thoughts I desperately try to grasp and carry with me. The fleeting memories pass through my fingers. A handful remain. And fade through the years. A smile. A hug. A laugh. A smell.
I look upon my friends, my family. When will they be gone? What is waiting on the other side? A darkness? A light? Will I greet my fate with fear and trembling, or will I reach toward the embrace of love and unity, and be consumed by oneness?
The days pass quickly.
One day I wake up.
Years are gone.
And people.
And their memory.
I wonder who will be next?
Nothing will prepare me.
Life is long, and short.
William Dare 