Life is fleeting.
Listen, Lucy: Life is fleeting.
We know this at a young age when we say goodbye to our first childhood pet.Our first goodbye that breaks our hearts into pieces we’re sure will never mend. We see this in the ebb and flow of the seasons. The browning of the autumn leaves that spiral downward to their rest.We know this and yet we are startled into remembering when we must say goodbye anew.
Life is hopeful.
As the autumn leaves crumble and descend into the dirt we are reminded that something is bound to grow.The seeds burst so courageously amidst the springtime dew telling us that we, as humans, cannot and should not be held in the dark for too long. We long to thrive in the light.We hear the hope in the murmured cry of a new baby.
We can see this hope.We can hear this hope.
We can taste it in the salt of our tears as we, overcome with emotion, vow to marry the love we so longed for as little girls and boys.
Life is unfair.
Life personified arrives on our doorstep to tell us the person we love is entering a battle with a disease that has the power to take them from us.It tells us this and with a certain cruelty it reminds us that there is nothing, not one thing, we can do. We see the injustice. We scream on the inside as we are once again reminded that life isn’t our friend, but an unpredictable breeze that blows us like tumbleweeds through a desert at the very moment we ask for a drink of fresh water.
“Let us be renewed,” we plead.
Life is a song.
Amidst the tantrums that tout how unfair our life is, you can hear the rhythmic patter of little feet.The feet of tiny people who remind us to find joy in the simplest of places. Butterflies. A hug. A laugh with a friend. Places we once considered home.You can hear it, too, in the babble of a brook that’s nourishing the wildlife whose larking fills a forest with a chorus of melodies.
Life is your song but it is my song, too.
My song is founded on the soft and steady heartbeat of my person, who at the end of each day is there to sing me to sleep.
Life is hard. It is really, really hard.
We know this and when we sing we don’t sing about joy, we sing ballads of heartbreak.We lament our goodbyes. We watch life come as a thief in the night to steal our loved ones. Sometimes without warning, sometimes with a warning that can only be described as confusing and bittersweet. We let the anguish life gifts us consume our being until we forget.
We forget that life is hopeful.
We forget that life is a song.
We forget that life is beautiful.
Oh, life is beautiful.
Life’s beauty is the morning we pick ourselves up to dig through the dark and decay to sprout courageously amidst the morning dew.
And we will.
Life’s beauty is the day we sing loudly of joy, of our love, of our passion.
So loudly, in fact, that others cannot help but join in our chorus.
Life’s beauty is in the inherent strength we have as friends, daughters, brothers, sisters, sons, husbands, and wives to find the right words to say when our loved ones have crawled underground for a little while.
We become more beautiful when we emerge from a struggle, flawed and frayed but stronger than we once were.
We do that. We do that. We do that.
Life’s beauty is the moment we are able to remember that the reason goodbye has been so hard is because life was kind enough to bless us with someone so hard to part with.
Yes, life is fleeting.
Life is hard and unfair and unpredictable and messy and bittersweet and painful.
But life is beautiful.
Oh, life is beautiful.