THE DASH

Lots to think about today. My friend is celebrating his son's 5th birthday by wearing the polo shirt he wore when he was born. The shirt is clearly 'worn', a couple of holes, but his annual tradition is a touching one in celebrating one of the most significant days in his life. It was ironic, that as I shared that moment with my friend, I was preparing to attend the funeral of another friend's mother.

After the service, she told me that her mom's unending wish was for her five sons and daughters to end their 3-year feud (over money, no less, what else.) I was somewhat astonished to hear that once the children finally reconciled, just one week later, the mom passed away. It's amazing how people can literally hold on to life for something they love or desire, yet also see that once people have nothing to live for, they can literally stop living. It also boggles my mind that for three years the siblings denied their mother and the grandchildren the joys and memories of sharing life together because of bickering over money. Now, that their mom is gone, was it really worth it?

In one day I saw both poles of life, birth and death. On the photocopied funeral service bulletin, or on the headstone, just below the departed's name, they print the birth year and year of death. For instance, in my case it would read Roman Derek Seguerre, 1965 - ? (whoa, that's freaky just writing it.)

I've learned that the dates aren't most important, it's the dash in between that matters most.