"The day of one's death is better than the day of one's birth..." Ecclesiastes 7:1
My wife's Grandfather passed yesterday. He was a strong man beaten by blows from diabetes, liver failure, and infection. Each took turns humbling a once proud man. The goodbyes that linger the longest are the hardest, and his goodbye lingered.
Saying goodbye with such finality is hard. You begin saying goodbye when they stop being the person you knew, because that person is already gone. As their body is beaten their spirit is bruised, the humor and personality are abandoned. They struggle for breath, and conversation is no more than soft whisper.
While we have been visiting I walked around their place. Ten acres of land surround them. A pasture for the cattle, a shed, and a space for a garden. There is a nice backyard with a soft carpet of grass, not a thing to be taken for granted in the dry climate.
I have thought much about my Gramps and Grandpa during this time. I guess what I'm really thinking about is the passing of a generation. These men we're loosing, they were real men. They were all married to the same woman for 50 years, they raised big families, they grew and built.
Dirt and grease on hard hands. Sun dried faces fresh touched by razors. Few words, much action. Building and tending to everything they had. They wasted nothing, they valued everything they had.
Now the grass overtakes the fence, and the shed needs repair and paint.
"One generation passes away, and another generation comes;
But the earth abides forever." - Ecclesiastes 1:4
God has rigged it hasn't he? There is no winning, we are all Sisyphus rolling the stone up the hill only to watch it roll down again.
