Monday, February 19, 2024

Everything ends eventually

Make a wish for more
London, ON
February 2024
This photo originally shared on Instagram

On a day when a dear friend we’ve known since childhood says goodbye to her mom, it doesn’t feel right to share imagery that suggests happiness.

So we go with this. Where the day ends with the setting of the sun. Where angry clouds paint the sky in futile protest against what’s about to happen. Where the howling winds that shape this scene remind us how powerless we are to change much of anything.

I’m often reminded that as much as sunsets signify an ending, they also hold out hope for tomorrow. The sun will always rise again, we’re told.

But not for everyone.

If we’re lucky we’ll be able to greet the morning. But every night marks the last for some, and eventually we all run out of however many sunsets we were destined to have.

I have no answers to any of this, nor do I think any of us ever will. Or even should.

Time is a finite, precious resource for us all, and this is just as true when we’re watching the light fade over the horizon or listening to the cruel beat of earth on wood in a cemetery.

So we watch the brilliant sunsets, feel the howling winds, and rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Because missing all of this would somehow feel wasteful.

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