Today is an old friend’s
funeral. As I write this his lifeless body must be surrounded by his grieving
family, the funeral service going on, with words of comfort from church
elders and friends and relatives. A pre-cyclonic rain has been falling since
morning, it is cold and bleak and we stick indoors.
Old age doesn't look like a
nice place, from this place right here, right now. Our loved ones, our family
and friends will die, sometimes without warning, and with every death behind
us, the memories will pile up like a heap of unwanted baggage, slowing us down
and making our steps heavier. Old photographs will be sad reminders of happier
days, seeing old faces will make us remember the ones who are no longer with
us.
Or, we can decide to be
optimistic and be happy that we have been spared for so long, long enough to enjoy
the love and affection of those around us, and still being able to appreciate
the pleasures that life brings.
I must go and dig out that
Doctor Zhivago book which my friend lent me so many many years ago. I never
finished reading it, maybe it‘s time to read it again. Rest in peace, old young
friend.
