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Recalling the sadness with which my dad would report the passing of another old classmate, I began to identify somewhat, with those feelings. I had just read the obituary of yet another friend of my mother’s which saddened me, but more than that, it began to unfold a revelation about aging I have never felt before. (It isn’t about my being another year older or being nearer the end. Instead, it’s feeling the passing of life as I’ve known it. It’s the people who’ve left us behind, evolving morality, chivalry and such.) The lady who had died was an age right between my parents and me, so she considered Mama a friend, and me as well. We weren’t close, but I had respect for her and remembered fondly how she was a presence in our lives when I was a young child.

A couple days ago I came upon a colorful butterfly whose life had ended, and it suddenly returned to mind today. Each time I walked by it as it lay on the hot concrete, a few more particles of its lovely wings were etching away, as is the way of Mother Nature; by another day it was gone.

I wondered, are our lives just delicate wings, slowly crumbling off around the edges, dissolving like a mound of January snow? Well, actually yes, according to God’s word, our earthly lives are like the petals of a flower, dust in the wind. “All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of the grass. The grass withers, and its flower falls away. But the word of the Lord endures forever.” (I Peter 1:24) But God put something inside us that the dust and the butterflies do not have; a soul. I know the soul lives forever because God said He created us in His image, which is eternal. “Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness;’ (Genesis 1:26) I understand this; however, it’s the season we’re spending here with one another that I am pondering.

When dad mourned passing classmates, it was literally losing pieces of himself. I recall losing high school classmates not long after graduation and unlike the elderly, it was shocking, unusual and set apart from our own lives. However, as we grow older together, we are watching each other’s lives span out, grow, and come back together again. We find more things in common, along with our other acquaintances, woven throughout our own tapestry of life. So watching all these people from different periods of our lives begin to leave, is similar to watching the threads slowly unravel and slide out of the cloth, little by little, one friend, one relative, at a time. This we know is natural, neither shocking nor unusual, but as I’m just realizing, it is actually changing the landscape of my life, my world; a world created by the relationships we’ve made, the real stuff of our lives. It reminds me of enjoying a bowl of ice cream. You have your favorite flavor in your favorite bowl, the spoon that fits just right in your hand, and you knew the delicious treat wasn’t to keep, so as you enjoy it, bite by bite, you see it disappearing. Either you eat it or it melts; either way, it goes.

I realize these thoughts have the potential of being depressing, but it is not my intention to bring you down. Rather, you should know your life, whether a casual acquaintance, a relative, my best bud, or somewhere between, is being enjoyed like a bowl of Columbian coffee ice cream; worn in my life like the finest woven tapestry; and decorates my life like the blue speckles on the butterfly sipping at my zinnias. We are not put here to live unto ourselves. As we help and encourage each other, we are actually folding in the ingredients, weaving threads of gold and silver, into and throughout each other’s lives. Make it good, dear ones! When the tapestry is completely undone, will I be just another wing on the sidewalk? I like to think I may be a good memory to some, like that particular butterfly was to me, but more importantly, whatever makes me fly will live forever with my God.

Thankfully, I haven’t had to say goodbye to many of my own peers, but as I’m practically in the lap of being the older generation, I have just begun to understand. I found myself frantically searching my mind for someone who might be able to answer questions related to the life of the recently deceased. Finally I called a cousin who could fill in some of the blanks but the truth remains, there are fewer people left than I care to realize who can still answer questions about past memories. The memories are precious because of the souls connected to them. So hug them up tight; wrap them in fine quilts and serve them using the good dishes. Life just may be short, so enjoy the ice cream.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.” (II Corinthians 4:16)