It has been on my heart for days now. GiGi and I attended a going-away potluck for an elderly Florida couple who have camped at Swains Lake Campground for 27 years. They are both sharp mentally, gracious, kindly folks who, after a lifetime of friendships, took the two of us into their circle of youngster-friends. Our get-together with about 25 of their campground friends was delayed a day because the husbands brother had died, and the funeral was held locally the day the potluck (it was to be a surprise) originally was scheduled. The old man is about 90 now, and they simply cant handle the summer trips back and forth from Florida, so this was their final one, and they are leaving mid-summer. It was a sad occasion on that level: A relinquishment of a life-joy of many years. But it was when we asked about his brother that I felt the deep sadness of the old man. He described the funeral, how some aging veteran had played taps at the end of the ceremony for his brother. I am the last of my siblings, he said, tears welling up in his old eyes. And so many of my friends are gone now ... It is hard. Yes, it is hard. Damned hard. Even for a man of faith, which our friend is. It is the most difficult part of a long life - watching so many things change, so much pass away. It is a slow death, this growing old. It has its downside and its upside. If you have loved life, loved your friends, your partner in life, your work and your play - well, at least you get to savor all of that, and the precious memories. Also, you have time - as in this instance - to bid a farewell to people you have known, even young friends like us. But oh, the sadness that the slow death can bring. I saw it in his tear-filled eyes ... just as I have so often seen it in my aging fathers eyes. Why take time to dwell on this? For one reason: Those of us who probably can expect years of continuing health and activity can benefit from our encounters with those who are aging before our eyes. Theirs may be our lot. So we live accordingly, grateful for each day of life God grants us. But more to the point, we do not turn away from this reminder of our own mortality. Rather, we focus on the old souls in our life. We comfort as we can.We spend time listening. We ask about the life they have now, and the life they enjoyed years ago. And we remember them in our petitions to the Father above. Dying grace is not something only of value on the deathbed.
Posted on: Mon, 14 Jul 2014 11:28:57 +0000
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