When it’s my time
To some, this is going to come as ‘morbid’ and you might see it as – “Why are you thinking about it”
But I am, so here we go.
We came home just now from Buffalo – We were at a funeral for my Aunt – My Godmother – It’s so strange that she is gone – I remember so fondly all the times we all spent together- swimming, wrestling, eating, laughing, and even fighting – My cousins were so great growing up – My aunts and uncles just as great.
I haven’t seen Aunt Joanne much in the last few years – but we did drive in to see her two weeks ago – and I am glad that we did.
Questions came up at church about “what really happens when we die”.
The service was beautiful – and in typical Buffalo, Old First Ward fashion – the neighborhood came out in force. It is such a community. A community like I have never seen before – that is always there. Every time my Dad gets sick – or someone passes away – it’s as if the entire old neighborhood from my parents youth shows up.
I wish we had that – I wish we knew what it was like to be surrounded by that kind of community – Well actually I think maybe I am – The running community might be my Old First Ward… That’s comforting – I have great non running friends too – hopefully they show up for what I am about to ask.
I sat through this beautiful service, surrounded by beautiful family and friends – and I thought – This isn’t what I want. I don’t want a church – a building – a formality – That’s never really been who I am.
Not that I don’t want to be surrounded by my family and friends (I’ll be gone though – so maybe it’s for them more than for me?) I want to be left where I love – I want people to be able to visit me where it started – Nature.
When it’s my turn – I want a park – I want a run to be held (maybe a hike because hopefully we’ll be old and slow) I want single track – I want the winding trail. I want hills and ponds – creeks and mud -
That’s where I want to be – Maybe read an old Irish blessing in a pavillion in a park – and then spread me on the trails while you run.
Spread me where I love to be. Spread me outside. The earth has music, for those who will listen. I want that to be the message people get when I leave – Stop and listen and realize how much the trails have to say.
Then you can visit when you hike/when you run/when you ski/when you stop outside on a sunny day – I’ll be there – in the trees. That’s what I want.
An Old Irish Blessin’
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there… I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow…
I am the diamond glints on snow…
I am the sunlight on ripened grain…
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of gentle birds in circling flight…
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry—
I am not there… I did not die…
Tomorrow we cheer up and get back on our regularly scheduled running blog topics