My friend’s father passed away and was interred yesterday. He lived a full life and had quite a legacy. It was a testament to his life and how he lived it. As I stood in the rain with a host of other mourners I became introspective. Would I ever have such a legacy as this man? More than likely not, but I looked at all the people and it warmed my heart to know that I lived on the fringe of something so beautiful. We had a toast afterward for a great life lived and reveled in a life that touched so many, many people.
As John Donne Wrote:
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.