Sixty Years

Today I attended a funeral for a woman who had been married almost sixty years. Impressive by any measure. She was a pastor's wife, a mother, a church leader, and an inspiration to who knows how many people through the years.

Most of the time when I'm at a funeral I have some part in the service. It's not often that I am sitting in the pew. Today I was just a few rows behind Mr. Northington. He was sitting in a wheel chair, the closest person to the casket, with his children and grandchildren sitting next to him.

I began to wonder what it's like to be in his place, formally saying goodbye to the woman who had walked with him through a lifetime. And what about the children? There are few things more painful than seeing your children suffer. I'm not able to imagine grief like that. I know people do this everyday. Funerals like this one are part of life. But the regularity does nothing to minimize the grief.

Funerals make me think about life, not death. I left the service today with a fresh determination to enjoy the people who make my life what it is. I'm forty years old and I've been friends with my wife since I was fourteen. She's lived with me, since we were married, longer than she lived with her mom and dad. I am totally invested in her. I have no idea what my life would be like without her...nor do I care. But I do know that our life in this world together will someday come to an end. And that reality motivates me to make the most of the days we have.

This morning when my eyes first opened I saw her sleeping, just a portion of her face was within view. I swear she looked just like she did twenty years ago. A moment later I was in 2010, but all the years seem to dissolve in our relationship. She is the young bride I married all those Junes ago, and the young woman who taught our children to walk and read and write, and she is the woman who kissed me when I got home this afternoon.

Will we have sixty years? I have no idea. But even if we have a hundred it will be too few. I have to go now...I hear her moving in the kitchen...and, well, I only have so much time.