I wish that angels were more than just glamorized fairies, given divinity, believed in by many to be real and standing in place of those whom we hold favor with, miss so dearly and will never see again. I mourn with those who mourn; I grieve with those who grieve. One day my knees will fall in place of theirs, but I wish not for the day when tears fall in the wake of my passing. No, rather I'd prefer a celebration of all that we shared at the breaking of this cycle of life. There are but two choices in this life. You are either living or you are dying. The dying accept life's passing, sitting in wait like a passenger on a train. They watch an eagle soaring without wonder of how or why, without a dream to rise up and take flight themselves. Their lives are full of doubt, regret and uncertainty. They describe life in adjectives when true involvement falls on an ellipsis. The living approach life with all the flare and energy of a roaring wildfire, with unwavering passion like a steady stream. They seek out new frontiers and are invigorated by mystery and discovery. Their lives have purpose, meaning and fulfillment. They view question marks as challenges and punctuate life in exclamations. For all who share with me in this understanding of our mortality and for all on whom my love falls, I ask for you to join with me in the latter.
