Translating a World on the Edge

Our lives are filled with endings.

Some we want.

And some we don’t.

After a particularly tiring week or day at work, we’re happy to have an ending. After an argument with a child or spouse, we’re happy for that to end, too. If we’ve had an unusually cold winter, or a dreary rainy and hot summer, we take a joyful breath when all that’s over. If we’re cleaning out a closet, if we’re striving to complete a garden, and certainly if we’re in labor with childbirth near, we want endings!

But we may not want an ending to that last bite of pecan pie, or the sight of a gorgeous sunset, or a night of celebration with our spouse. We may not want to put down that sweet, sleeping baby in our arms. We don’t want to reach the ending of a wonderful song, or a great book, or a loving kiss.

Except endings come. We lose people who mean much to us. Maybe they simply leave, or maybe we we lose them to death.

Endings that come to us by death are the hardest to assimilate. A parent, a spouse, a child, a friend, who are here with us on a given day, and the next day gone.

We grieve these endings. They take a toll on the rest of our lives.

I have always believed that the veil between life and death is very thin. I have always believed that death is another beginning–for each of us, and for our loved ones. I have felt an active connection with those who have left this world for another. I don’t believe they forget us anymore than we forget them. I ask for their prayers, and give them mine. And I do have faith that I will see them again.