​Yesterday evening, as G and I drove north along State Road 1, I eyed storm clouds pressing in from the west, and wondered if we’d be able to finish our mission. In the month since our friend D passed away, we’d dealt with his physical possessions and many business matters, but we weren’t sure what to do with him. Finally, we decided to take his cremains to a popular beach he’d liked to frequent.
 
We anxiously searched for a parking spot along narrow streets crammed with holiday tourists, and God opened a door: one spot, adjacent to the beach, no cost. I captured shots of dark clouds obliterating the setting sun and a thinning crowd of beach-goers. Then, facing nearly cloudless eastern skies, we quietly said good-bye and released him into the warm waters.

​I turned my last photo into today’s Facebook cover. In its layers, I will remember.

It matters not how long we live, but how.
​                                                  ~Phillip James Bailey
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This week I said good-bye to D. His mother was my close friend, and when she unexpectedly died in 2013, he was truly orphaned: no parents, siblings, cousins. Over several decades, his nemesis Alcohol robbed him of many opportunities: being a fire-fighter, piloting planes, spending time with people who loved him. Yet despite the battles with Al, he persevered.

Last summer, D’s longtime girlfriend and his dog died within weeks of each other. Two months later, he noticed a suspicious lump on his neck. D self-diagnosed terminal cancer, decided not get medical assistance, put most of his affairs in order, and settled in with Al to await his end.

Possessions left behind include photos and childhood artifacts D’s mother treasured that mean nothing to anyone else. My grieving heart is watching life’s winds erase D’s footprints, evidence of her legacy disappearing into dust. 

#legacy, #meaningoflife