Hello,
The reality of impending death is our one certainty. If we are fortunate enough to live for 70 years, we will have lived for 840 brief months.
The womb to the tomb is a rapid journey.
I once wandered through a cemetery in a town called Rochester in the UK and always having a fascination for last words, I happened upon the C19th tombstone of a man who had been fatally struck while playing cricket! It read:
Here lies the bones of one, poor Louch,
A cricketer so staunch,
That vexed his hands should miss the ball,
He caught it in the paunch.
Now, if you were to write each others ‘last words’ what would we write; not our own I emphasize but each others?
Here is one for you Fred.
Here lies interred our Frederick Hall
who finally succumbed to his upward call,
his litter box holds little cheer,
save bones, and dust, and an apostates tear…
HS