Death

I sat at a funeral yesterday, listening to many words being poured out: Attention paid to the smallest gesture of kindness and generous action, credit long overdue finally being paid.

Death lends grace and forgiveness to us that we cannot seem to extend to the living.

I'm thinking about this now, as I consider the effect that Michael Jackson's death is having on the world. Why is it so much easier now to choose to remember and honour only the very best of him?

Is it that we are able to open our hearts to him now that he's gone, secure in the knowledge that he can't hurt us or disappoint us again?

Or have we been forced to confront his (and our) human frailty? Is it the realization that even the brightest of us cannot live forever, that death comes to us all?

Whatever it may be, there is something precious about the depth of forgiveness death grants. And something very precious about experiencing it with millions of others.

Wouldn't it be great if we could hold on to just a little of this feeling?

To remind us to hold on to what matters.

To see the flesh and blood humans around us not simply in the fleeting moments they appear in our lives, not in reference to ourselves, but with a long view, the view that somehow blurs the mistakes and sharpens the most beautiful parts of a life.