Monday, March 21, 2016

Remembering Death 11 That Tolling Bell

In the ten entries where I've remembered people in my life who have died, I've only scratched the surface. There are friends I didn't write about and the big ones (Mama and Daddy) felt larger than this blog at this time. And then there's my own death.

As I write this, it is the evening of the Monday of Holy Week, 2016. Today, I had funny reminder of my own mortality. Seriously, I laughed. Here's a picture:

What we have here is a cashier at a neighborhood eatery assuming I should have a senior discount. Normally, in these places, I don't even look at my receipt, so maybe I've gotten it before. I couldn't help but chuckle while eating.

Sure, it comes a bit as a minor shock. All my life, I've been told, "You don't look that old!" When I was 40, I had to show my driver's license more than once to people who wouldn't believe it. This continued on for most of that decade.

But I also know the last three years have aged me. I see it in the mirror. A major surgery, diabetes, a few other worries---it all adds up. So it's not that big of a shock.

This isn't the first sign that I no longer pass for thirty-something. On crowded buses, younger riders have started offering me their seat, insisting on it.

So, yes, I get it. And it's okay. I'm 52 and  hopeful for quite a few more years, no matter how I look.

Still, it is a reminder that there are fewer years ahead than behind. Everyone dies. This incident seems appropriate to the beginning of Holy Week. The reminder of Ash Wednesday feels distant. Today, I saved seventy-eight cents on the way to the cross. The Holy Spirit has a sense of humor, as should we all in the face of death.

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