The “Gentle Night” is Ever Closer — By John Reed

The “Gentle Night” is Ever Closer
The older I get the more memorials, visitations, and funerals I wind up attending. This often puzzles me as the person I’m honoring seemed so full of life only yesterday. And then it hits me: was I “so full of life yesterday“? Will I be next?
Our dear editor writes frequently on aging. My great grandfather wrote a book on his views quote “from the ninth decade.” There aren’t many pearls of wisdom I can add
I’ve decided when I go that I don’t want a funeral service. Too much gloom and sadness. Instead, throw a party. That way, the people who like me can celebrate my new living arrangements up above, and those who don’t can just celebrate that I’m gone.
Part of every memorial service seems to involve friends and relatives telling stories about the deceased in a humorous manner. My family keeps a metaphorical journal of sayings and actions I’ve said or done. Every now and then, they’ll say “that one goes in the book“ and I know somebody is going to recount that day after I’m gone.
Once the immediate pain of loss dulls comes the question of legacy. How does one honor the life of a loved one? Some people get roads or buildings named after them, others, charitable funds. For me, it’s a much simpler answer: if the person was a good parent and provider, live that way yourself for your own descendants. If they were not a good person, then be better yourself. Too many people get trapped in a generational loop.
The poet Dylan Thomas said it best when he wrote “do not go gentle into that good night.” I’ve been blessed with relatively good health for nearly seven decades, and hope to see my ninth. Even as time seems to stalk me ever closer, I know I have things yet left to do.
And even at the end, I know I will rage against the darkness.