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This is the only second we have any guarantee of.
At some point we will die and our bodies will become dirt, water
or some other marvelous thing.
Perhaps reality is the only thing we have come to fear?
Tonight I reviewed the eulogy a dear friend was writing
for one of his best friends, who died very young,
leaving a wife and small children.
The only thing I could think
that might be important to those with
whom he will speak is to once again remember
that there is no second beyond this second guaranteed.
What on Earth could be more important in this last
second than an expression of loving-kindness to or with
another being?
Recently I used the expression “pushing up the daisies” in a mixed-age group of people. No one under the age of 25 knew what it meant.
While at death of this body, I intend to donate any usable parts as organ transplants, leaving the rest to medical science (for studies on the prolonged use of aspartame, if nothing else), toasting the remains to be used perhaps to fertilize the daisies rather than push them up as a casket might, it brought clearly to mind the need for us to be sure that what we say is understood by those with whom we are speaking.
