DEATH BE NOT PROUD
As his former master is laid to rest, the dog remembers
So a man in his middle age is feeling the weight of melancholia. He has found out that a good friend has been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer and is now confined to a wheel chair and will soon be dead.
Angela Neymour, the song bird of Sandilands Primary School and in many respects the life of the party and the engine that once drove the primary school in Fox Hill is dead. From diagnosis to death perhaps a month. Shocking and sad.
Bishop Albert Hepburn at 89. A few days sort of his 90th birthday, now in the grave.
You read the obits if you are a politician every Thursday. First you check to see if your picture in there and then to see the list of the funerals that you have to attend.
You can be forgiven for become cynical and insensitive to death and the suffering and pain that comes with it.
The same trite sayings and platitudes every week. She or he is watching for the portals of heaven they say. We will always be there for you they say. We will never forget they say. We must celebrate a life well lived, they say.
In the end, what does it all mean?
Only this: in the midst of life there is death. That is all we know and when you think about it: all we need to know.