On getting old . . .

It's not getting older that I have uncertain feelings about; it's watching those around me get older. I've been to two funerals recently, both for men named Bob, and both were outstanding men for different reasons. And sitting through those funerals was pretty moving on both occasions for different reasons. But both times I took a good look around at the people gathered, and it was impossible not to notice how they had aged. I don't see these people regularly any longer, so the gradual ebbs and flows we are all going through show up more intensely in them. Some faces never change, but everything else does. Some faces sink or expand. Some faces are still about the eyes or the smile or the nose. Some of these people I never knew very well. Some of them I knew very well but don't any longer. So of them I'll know well my entire life. Regardless, I've come away both times feeling sadder about these changes. I don't know why. It's not the age that they are reaching. That's always a secondary thought for me. It's the changes in my perception. These aren't the same people as when I knew them best.

It's amazing, though, how what some of these people represent to me never changes. The first Bob to pass was a family man. Loved his family. They loved him. Had three sons and a long-time wife. Best friends. The entire family made each other laugh. The latest Bob was my junior high teacher and neighbor. I never really appreciated all that he was teaching me, though, until much later. He set an example of how a man or woman should live life seemingly every day, by enjoying the minute for what it was, not for what it wasn't or could have been. He greeted every one with a smile and a question. The question was never anything to do with himself. Salt of the earth. Proud. Tolerate. Strict when he had to be. Teachers who touch the lives of hundreds of kids positively over many years are some of the best people. Men who love their families without question or care for them are the best fathers.

You can't help but to make an accessment of your life while at a funeral. You wonder if how your life will be celebrated and mourned, and by whom. You wonder are you living the minutes each day properly, taking notice of how to enjoy them. You wonder what wisdom you can obtain from those who have passed, what examples they've given you. You wonder how you can use their gifts. I'm not sure where I stand next to such men. Seems far away right now. But maybe it should feel that way, and maybe funerals are the best time for moving forward purposely.