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| Janet's artwork from one of her many travel destinations. Artist Unknown. |
Janet experienced a very full and adventurous life, and the artwork at right hung over her mantle, decorating her living room along with other treasures from her years as an airline stewardess, overseas teacher in Germany, Greece, Korea and Saudi Arabia, and as a tour guide. Some of these were offered as gifts to attendees, and I thought I'd take this one one as a memento of our friendship and good times together.
Sometime in her fifties, she developed kidney disease and eventually experienced years of dialysis and a kidney transplant. Even the dialysis didn't stop her travels. She would do research and find places where she could continue the treatment overseas. She was very intrepid, able to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. Eventually ill health and dementia took its toll, and she transitioned, gone.
I've reached that point in life where people are disappearing. Sometimes it's someone I know locally, and there's a palpable shock that he or she is "gone." Sometimes I'll think of someone from the past, wonder what's going on with them, check the Internet, and find out they've transitioned. I knew, for example, a well known and well published author from years spent in Seattle. When I looked him up, I learned he was gone as of last year. We had lost touch, and now we've lost touch for good. These disappearing acts are becoming more frequent as I grow older
This got me thinking about what we leave behind. Perhaps children, grandchildren, published works, successful companies, charitable foundations, and many memories held by others. I learned that Janet's small family home, which she lived in and eventually owned, bought years ago for what would be considered today a paltry sum, was sold for well over half a million dollars, torn down and replaced by a much larger home, which then sold for close to two million dollars. The neighborhood is desirable, and changing. The house she lived in has disappeared, the stuff she collected over the years gone...some to new homes, like mine, some to a dumpster.
Of course stuff in my home will need to be disposed of, also, when the time comes. But life is not about stuff and things, or even accomplishments. It's about living....being here NOW. Enjoying this gift of life, in whatever shape or form it takes, as we walk this path into the great unknown.
I think of the poem, "And That Is Death," where the author is standing on the seashore, watching a ship as it disappears over the horizon. Then someone says, "Look--she's gone." Gone where? Gone from my sight, that's all. But at that very moment, other eyes eagerly watch her approach and voices gladly shout, "Look, she's coming."
As Ernest Holmes writes in Science of Mind, "When death shall come and the spirit, freed, shall mount the air, and wander afar in that great no-where, it shall go as it came, freed from sorrow, sin and shame; and naked and bare, through the upper air shall go alone to that great no-where. Hinder not its onward way, grieve not o'er its form of clay, for the spirit, freed now from clod, shall go alone to meet its God."
And so it is.
