“She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful and life was so short.” 
Since August there have been three deaths in my family. All were elderly persons so it was expected that they would leave this earth soon. No matter the age or circumstances, death is still an enemy that devastates us, if only for a while, reminding us of our own mortality.
Regardless of the extraordinary accomplishments man makes in medical science, one fact of life cannot be altered. Death is inescapable and it comes like a roaring high speed locomotive. As if every day of our life is another eighty, one hundred, or more miles speeding towards the finality of our stay here on earth. Before we know it, the locomotive reaches the end of the line and our life is over. All the things we desire to accomplish gone with that last breath, the last chug, chug of the hastening locomotive.
No more time to complete the fulfillment of aspirations. No more days to share with a grandchild, to tell a mate or child how much joy they brought into our life. No longer able to reach out and touch another human transmitting warmth and emotion, or wiping the tear of a wounded child. No more stories to tell, songs to sing. No more thoughts, creating, loving, weeping, joy or sorrow. In the blink of an eye we become a memory.
This month an uncle died. In the last thirty years I had only seen him twice. We lived far apart. He was a lover of life and family and will be missed. His death made me melancholy and reflective. My father, who passed away three years ago, was one of eight brothers. This month, with the passing away of my uncle, a whole generation was eradicated. It is an eerie feeling to have them all gone. While this last uncle remained I still felt a connection with my father. Now they all seem almost a distant memory. It is an empty feeling.
Fortunately new people come into our lives to fill the void that also bring us joy and pleasure. Gradually, the pain of loss is lessened. Memories begin to fade. Life goes on. We love life still, even though the circle of life takes loved ones from us.
There is no denying that life is beautiful. It gives many joys in the way of replacement for our losses. The emotional high of embracing a sunset, the laughter that bursts forth while watching the antics of baby animals at play, the touch of a newborn’s tiny hand and the giggle of a toddler.
Life is beautiful, but each day we do shed a tear, if only in our mind and hearts for the memory of those who are gone and the realization that we too, one day, will become a memory in someone’s heart.
It was the Christmas of 1973. I had just given birth to a baby girl a month earlier. Poverty was a way of life. I was on my own with two children, my infant daughter and a seven year old son. My daughter’s father was not around and I had little help from family.