We don’t deal with death very well. This is probably why we don’t deal so well with aging. As time marches on its a constant reminder how life is so fragile, so fleeting. In the blink of an eye, quicker than it takes to blow out a candle, sometime can be gone.
Death has touched my life this year. As it constant touches the lives of many. It’s been 18 years since death had such a personal stake in my life. For my age that’s bordering on a miracle. And while unexpected, it was still a difficult time.
In recent days death has rudely stormed in and touched the lives of so many in my social circle. Unexpected and inelegant, death barged in rudely snatched a life, far, far too soon.
In conversation with a mutual friend we mulled on how in such a connected world can make it harder to move on. The internet holds on to them, even tighter than our memories can. In the digital age our memories can be refreshed at the click of a button. But then their social media just stops. Dead. No more words, no more images. A virtual memorial to a life no more.
I have two Facebook friends who have been dead for a few years. Their profiles sit in my friend list, occasionally reminding me of their passing, their words and pictures now ancient history.
Today is Remembrance Sunday, a day on which I often have mixed feelings. But I remember those who died so that we might have the freedom to choose whether to remember, who died so that we might have the freedom to choose not to fight, who died so that we might have freedom. I choose to remember not to celebrate war, not to say that it is good, but to thank those who, when it was the last resort, defended out freedom and our choices.
On this day that we remember those who died so we could live the life we do, we can’t help but also remember those no longer in our lives.