"And it moves us all, through despair and hope, through faith and love, ‘til we find ourselves on the path unwinding in the circle of life.” -- Elton John and Tim Rice, “The Lion King”
One week. Just seven days.
One birth. One death. One beginning. One ending. One life about to blast off into possibilities unknown and dreams yet unfulfilled. One life concluding, the final note of a life’s song played. It echoed and then it faded and then there was silence.
That was my wonderful and sad, amazing, and heartbreaking week.
So, on a Thursday afternoon, I watched my 23-year-old Goddaughter Chloe graduate from Harvard University, mortar cap affixed to her head and adorned in the flowing robes of an academic career concluded. The fact her family and I watched Chloe do her graduation walk in the TV room of my house, as we viewed the ceremony virtually because of COVID; this took nothing away from the import of that moment, its joy and wonder.
So, on the following Wednesday afternoon, I visited my 72-year-old friend Manley, and laid my hand on his warm arm, as he lay unconscious in a hospital bed, in the front room of his home. I watched as his chest rose and then fell, as he breathed slowly, in and then out, aware this was probably the last time I would see him. A dear and trusted spiritual teacher, his wisdom and guidance steered me through the hardest times in my life. Manley died about 12 hours later.
Sometimes this life is just too beautiful and too awe-full to understand, to take in all at once. Sometimes our Creator gives us a sacred synchronicity of events like those I experienced, that in their stark contrast, wake us up to the truth that we are all mortal beings. That the gift of life we are given is a miracle, that yes, we all start out fresh from our mother’s womb, all pink and wrinkly and squirming. And yes, we will all one day take in a final lungful of air, and then depart from this earth for mysterious places unknown.
You can’t really prepare yourself for what it is like to arrive at such crossroads. We can anticipate, imagine how these moments might unfold, how we’ll react. But then it happens. As I watched Chloe, my proud “Uncle” heart expanded and grew and I could not help but think back to the cooing and quiet infant that lay gently cradled in my arms, just weeks after her birth. And as I sat and kept watch with Manley, I was brought back to all the times we sat together, cups of coffee in hand, talking about life, he patiently steering me away from the rocks and the shoals.
It does all go so fast.
The river of time carries us along swiftly and inexorably and though we might wish for it to slow down, it moves on and on, and so all we can do is enjoy the journey as best as we can. When we are young, of course, we don’t think much, if at all, about death. No. With bodies that seem to be invincible, and thousands of days that we trust still lay before us, we rush headlong into the future. If there is one youthful mistake it is in thinking that we can go on forever. Life is somehow infinite and all that lies before us is tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
But then things turn. Something happens. Our minds shift and our hearts change and our bodies stumble. We realize that the march of days has an end. That this story of life we’re authoring and living: it does have a final chapter. My mortality epiphany might have come on the day we mourned and said goodbye to my father. As I walked alongside the casket in the church, on a warm and sticky August day; as the pallbearers accompanied him on his final journey, I just knew one day I too would be in his place.
If there is one mistake so many of us commit in growing old, it is acting as if we’ve got all the time in the world. We hang on to a grudge and say we’ll get to resolving it one day and then time runs out. We hold back showing our love to others out of fear and then one day, that opportunity has passed. We declare we’ll be happy “when”—as in “when I retire”, or “when I have more time I will…” and then our time ends.
Seize the day! If I had but one philosophy to try and live by now that I am into my seventh decade, let it be that. As the Psalmist writes, “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Godspeed Chloe, as you take on the world. I will be cheering you on, every day. And Godspeed Manley. You are on your way to the place Shakespeare called, “the undiscovered country.” I will miss you every day.
And the circle of life continues.
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