Our inspirational speaker the other day included the often read-at-funerals poem entitled "The Dash." I'm sure you've all heard it. (If not, Google it.) It’s a poem about the little dash symbol, often seen on funeral pamphlets or on gravestones, between the date of the person’s date of birth and date of their death. When reflecting on a person's entire life, the dash looks quite small. But when reflecting on everything that happened during that dash, it can represent so much.
For those still living – like us working stiffs in the audience – it’s a reminder how we should focus on how we wish to spend our life.
And for those still living – and still grieving – it hit hard. I was sitting at the same table as a work friend who just lost his dad last week. I couldn't make eye contact. We were both feeling it.
Then today, since the gloomy, rainy weather prohibited any outdoor activity I enjoy, I worked on some stuff for my soon-to-be niece's bridal shower. I needed a foam core poster board for a sign and this is the first thing I pulled out. The picture boards from my mom's funeral.
Uff da.
Can I ever not tear up? I mean it's been 14+ months but it seems many times like it could've been just last week.
I guess I should look at Momma's dash and learn from it. So much life. Impacting so many. I need to start adding some depth to mine.
But I might need a few tissues before I get started.
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