As we wander through these middle years of life, sometimes our thoughts turn to the realities of the future. We watch the generation before us grow old, and we think about age and infirmity and what will happen, when they (and eventually, we) come to the end of our pathways?
I have a confession: I would like to be the last among my generation of family and friends to go.
Not because I want to outlive them, no; rather, so that I can make sure that they are not alone when they set sail for the Grey Havens. To wave goodbye when someone leaves -- whether they are departing for a short time or an unknown time, or perhaps, for eternity -- is to remind them that they are loved. And when you carry someone's love with you, it makes your travels easier. Even, perhaps, for a journey into the unknown.
I listen to Lord Huron: The Birds Are Singing At Night, and I wonder how it will all come to pass.
I hope there are many years still before I must walk those roads.
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