Death may not be the end
At least twice every day—early and late—I stand in front of the mirror in our bathroom, and, almost every time I think of the lifelong friend who installed that medicine cabinet when he remodeled that bathroom thirty years ago. He’s been gone at least a decade now, but in my memories he lives on.
Every single morning when I tie my shoes, I think of the original, always affable owner of our local
Red Wing Shoe store. Only days before he retired, I stopped by his business to see if they could sell me some of those special shoestrings.
“No,” the staff told me. “We don’t stock those anymore.” But the aging owner evidently recognized me.
“Wait,” he said, and he hurried to retrieve a set of strings that had been tucked away somewhere in their storage area. He gave them to me. That little man has also been gone for several years now, but not a morning passes when I don’t think of him. In my mind, he lives on.
Almost half a century ago, my brother-inlaw purchased a massive, somewhat elegant office desk from one of our city leaders who was closing his office and retiring.
When Dan also retired and got ready to move to Dallas, he sold that impressive desk to me for a pittance.
I’ve used it every day for more than three decades now. We buried Dan several years ago, but I seldom sit down behind this desk without thinking of him.
He lives on. The truth is that all of us do.
Long after we return to dust, a surprising number of relatives and friends and customers and neighbors will remember us.
We’ll still be a very real part of their daily lives. The only question is whether their unavoidable memories of us will bless them or curse them. When they think of us, will their hearts be warmed or will resentments be kindled?
“It is appointed to all humans to die,” the Good Book says. But, after we do, all of us will live on. Some of our most shameful acts will not be forgotten. But our kindest words, our most generous gifts, our wisest advice, and our corniest puns also will live on long after we’re gone. So we need to be careful every day to be speaking the kind of words, dispensing the kind of love, living the kind of life we want others to remember.
Gene Shelburne may be addressed at 3516 Carlton Dr., Amarillo, TX 79109 or at GeneShel@aol.com.