Yesterday, I got word that a wonderful man lost his life. He was not my father, my brother, my husband, my co-worker, or my friend, but he was each of those things to someone. He was a meaningful acquaintance in my life and the father of three of my previous students. He was a man that stood for family and faith, and was sincere in all that he did and said. Though my interactions with him were limited, my cumulative time spent with his family over the last decade was limitless. My time spent with him was that of mutual learning and respect. We both asked questions, we both shared answers, and we both learned from one another.
Death has a way of doing that; of making you remember the moments. Of erasing the moments between the then and now. Death has a way of putting life into perspective, and making you realize that the crayon-stained clothing that emerged from the melted mound of wax in the dryer really isn’t the worst thing currently happening in the world. Death has a way of making you feel helpless, and even hopeless.
For more ideas on living an intentional life, check out my series on 31 Days of Intention: Presence Over Presents.