Yesterday, I attended a funeral and it was, as funerals are wont to be, sobering and reflective, and a tribute to the one who had lived life and moved on. This was of a young man I had watched grow up. As I listened to the songs and heard the eulogy, I remembered long ago times and a youngster who had grown into a teenager, a young married man, and into what some would term middle age. And, I thought about how brief life is.
One of the songs was, Go Rest High on That Mountain by Vince Gill. Click on the link if you’d care to listen.
Each person, no matter his or her age and no matter his thoughts and dreams, his goals or way of life, is irreplaceable and unique. No one can ever fill that niche left behind. So, what do we do to make sense of things? Life is short and fleeting and, no matter how we try, we can’t hang onto those years. They slip right through our fingers.
It seems to me we must value each day and each individual. We see the good and we enjoy the richness of individuality. We try to understand what makes us the way we are.
Life is a mystery. Maybe that’s why I like to write them. Life may not always come round right and it may not be as we think it should be. But, a writer can change that, fictionally speaking. When real life doesn’t make sense, it can be smoothed out and understandable within the covers of a book. I’m grateful for the opportunity.
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