Death brings us all up short (Anne Lamott)

   Death brings us all up short. Deterioration is not ideal—how can this person not walk anymore, or remember me?—but death is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Float, looming over us like Snidely Whiplash. Because so many of my people have died, I have written often about death, insistent that it is not our enemy—snakes are. Also, cheese, which can be so hard to stop eating once you start. But it is not our enemy, a dubious friend, a friend you’d love not to hear from. 

   The problem is that you can’t have a juicy, expansive life without inviting her to the table. You can’t have joy without death. And the more you look death in the eyes, the less barbed its sting. 

   Here’s my plan: we take care of each other, especially the poor and scared, and even the annoying. We look up to the sky as often as we can remember to. Yes, we’ll see Snidely Whiplash but also pelicans and stars. We’ll hear notes of Judy Collins songs and wild geese. We’ll smell autumn afoot in the smoke, in dying leaves, in persimmons ripening overhead like tiny Japanese lanterns, giving off a little light, and which will taste so delicious, so soon.

--Anne Lamott 

Facebook, 9-30-22

 

Image source1 : https://www.americanoceans.org/facts/brown-pelican-migration-patterns/

Image source 2:  https://www.gardenia.net/plant/diospyros-kaki