Mortality

Full of life, walking through these days, I wandered into a graveyard.

I was not in search of any particular grave and this was not a picturesque place; it was in fact quite the opposite. It sits in the grounds of a neglected church. The windows broken or boarded, duvets in its covered doorway the only evidence of recent use.

I have often passed this place, running or walking, and noticed the sad sight of memorials once proudly standing but now laid flat in the interest of health and safety.

As I walked around its mossy path, a black marble stone caught my eye. It marked a grave, a quarter of a century old; its occupant, a wife and mother. She shared my date of birth. A life cut short, in her thirties; no chance to test the notion that life begins at 40.

It challenged me, made me reflect on life and living. I felt a responsibility to make the most of life whilst there is breath in me. I walked away, down the hill, back into town, aware of the changing season. It brought to mind the words of Ecclesiastes. For everything there is a time, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die. A time to celebrate life.

One thought on “Mortality

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s