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All Lovely Things Will Have an Ending




In 1916 American poet Conrad Aiken wrote the following piece.


All Lovely Things

All lovely things will have an ending, All lovely things will fade and die, And youth, that’s now so bravely spending, Will beg a penny by and by. Fine ladies soon are all forgotten, And goldenrod is dust when dead, The sweetest flesh and flowers are rotten And cobwebs tent the brightest head. Come back, true love! Sweet youth, return!— But time goes on, and will, unheeding, Though hands will reach, and eyes will yearn, And the wild days set true hearts bleeding. Come back, true love! Sweet youth, remain!— But goldenrod and daisies wither, And over them blows autumn rain, They pass, they pass, and know not whither.


This has always been one of my favorite poems but as the years have passed and I've grown older, I've become more appreciative of the sentiments expressed. Perhaps it is just that they now apply to me in a more personal way.


I've faced a lot of death in the past 10 years. Many of them were people my age. Some of them even younger. A good majority of them were sudden or unexpected. None of them were easy deaths to process. One of them stands out and was particularly difficult. Today was the day grief decided I'd been too comfortable for too long and came and knocked down my door.


Almost a year and a half ago I lost one of my closest friends to leukemia. He has been on my mind a lot the last few weeks. It's funny how different things make me think of him. Today it was someone in some Facebook foodie group going off on me about the dangers of MSG. As I read her comment, groaned, and rolled my eyes, I reached for my phone to text him about it. It was just second nature and it felt like my day came to a screeching halt as I instantly remembered he was now in a place I wasn't able to text or call. I sat at my desk and cried for a solid 5 minutes.


I just missed him.


As I needed to get back to my day I did the things I normally do that help me to compose myself and get back to the task at hand. (Remind myself that my own faith and theological convictions give me comfort that he is in Heaven right now, waiting on his loved ones to join him.) I don't miss him any less, but it is lovely knowing that I will see him again, and I know his earthly self would totally be rubbing in the fact that he got to Heaven first.


There is another reason that death has probably been on my mind a bit more. A few weeks ago a family member close to me went through a traumatic and frightening health scare. At the time they made their final wishes known to me so that I would be able to help carry them out. Thankfully, they are doing much better, but reminders of the fragility of life seem to hang on a bit longer these days.


There really is only one solid truth I've been able to take away from the dozens of funerals I've been to over the past decade:


Funerals are for the living.


Ten years ago I had all my final wishes typed out. Every hymn I wanted at my funeral. How I didn't want to be cremated or embalmed. What I wanted to family to do after my funeral as far as a reception goes. Etc., etc., etc...


What was I thinking?! None of that matters to me. By then I will have fought the good fight, finished the race, and (Lord willing!) kept my faith. I'll be in Heaven spending my days in the presence of God. How easy it is to forget that and slip into selfishness. How quickly I forget to think of loved ones on Earth who will still be hurting and grieving, just as I now grieve my friend.


How I made the jump from writing about death and missing my friend to reflecting on my own selfishness and what I need to change seems funny to me. I guess that is how the process of sanctification works, though. As I try to stay focused on God, He continues to grow my heart and mind. It is like getting a new pair of glasses after having the same prescription for several years. The world seems a bit disorienting as everything seems so crystal clear with this new growth in my heart.


Oh, and for the record, "Fine ladies soon are all forgotten," is actually what I'd like written on my headstone, should I have one. If you decide otherwise, that is cool too. I'll be a bit busy in Heaven. Busy with my friend, seeing a whole new loveliness, with vision so clear we won't need glasses.



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