To Where You Are
My Great Uncle passed away on Friday morning. It had been coming for some time, so we'd all gotten our goodbyes in. He was 90 and lived a long, happy life filled with love, friendship, good fishing and intelligent conversation. As death often seems to make you reflect on, I began thinking about how well I knew this wonderful man, how often I got to spend time with him, and even more, how often I got to say "I love you" to him. It seems to me, especially right now, that it is never enough. We wish we could bring our loved ones close again with just a wish. We realize how much we took for granted only when it is gone.
As I write this I am listening to one of my favorite artists, Josh Groban, singing "To Where You Are". There is something about his voice, his words, that remind me of the power of love. No matter how far away we go, or how many words we get to say, it takes actually very little to let someone know they are loved. A simple act, a "how are you?", a hug and kiss goodbye. A memory is all that is needed to bring that person back again; hold them in your heart, your mind, your memories, and they will live forever.
Isn't it strange how death makes us reflect on life? Or maybe it is that we are reflecting on death, since both life and death are one. In life we do the things that we do not want to regret not having done at our death. I will live my life with no regrets, no wondering about the what-ifs, no dwelling on the could-have-beens. I believe in serendipity and in fate. I believe the path I am on is the one I should be on. I am with the man I love, surrounded by friends and family who mean so much to me, and I have to believe that they know that. I certainly felt loved by my Great Uncle.
As I write this I am listening to one of my favorite artists, Josh Groban, singing "To Where You Are". There is something about his voice, his words, that remind me of the power of love. No matter how far away we go, or how many words we get to say, it takes actually very little to let someone know they are loved. A simple act, a "how are you?", a hug and kiss goodbye. A memory is all that is needed to bring that person back again; hold them in your heart, your mind, your memories, and they will live forever.
Isn't it strange how death makes us reflect on life? Or maybe it is that we are reflecting on death, since both life and death are one. In life we do the things that we do not want to regret not having done at our death. I will live my life with no regrets, no wondering about the what-ifs, no dwelling on the could-have-beens. I believe in serendipity and in fate. I believe the path I am on is the one I should be on. I am with the man I love, surrounded by friends and family who mean so much to me, and I have to believe that they know that. I certainly felt loved by my Great Uncle.