Saying Goodbye

In 39 years I have learned a few things. The bitterest thing I have learned is that most of this life is about saying goodbye. The smell of death lingers over everything. Not just physical death, but other kinds of death. Memories fade, friendships come to an end, spouses "drift apart", reputations are ruined (sometimes by one mistake), empires crumble, olive oil goes rancid, pages of books turn to dust. I am reminded of this everyday when I look in the mirror and see less hair on my head and more white in my beard. I recently watched the Last Lecture. The speaker, who died a few days ago, was happy and upbeat. But several times he remarked on how his work was what he was depending on to carry him into the future. To me it seemed like a frightened man grasping at smoke with his fingers.

Anslem has made some friends here where we live. Carlos and Eddie are 9 and 10, and are very nice boys. I've noticed that they obey their father happily and quickly. Much to my relief, I think they might be a good moral influence on Anselm, and I am happy for him to have other boys to play with. But it makes Basil, who is only two, very sad when Anselm runs out the door to ride scooters with Carlos and Eddie. And this is death, too. I held him today as he was crying for his brother. He said, "But I love Anselm". Of course, this is not as extreme as Cain and Able or Jaccob/Israel and Esau, but still, it is brothers growing apart and hurting because of it. And yes, it is uncomfortable for Anselm, too. He told me tonight that he misses Basil when he is playing with Carlos and Eddie.

In the funeral service of the orthodox church the question is asked "Where is that joy which is un-mixed with sorrow?" That is how I feel watching my children grow up. O, how I crave that Blessed Land where there is no night.