My friend’s husband passed away last week.
She’s been one of my best friends for the last six years. I didn’t know him, as well, but he was a close family friend. In Jewish tradition, the whole thing was handled simply and efficiently. The body must be buried within a certain period of time and all that. I felt it was over almost as soon as I’d found out. Barely time to even process the grief.
As quickly as it all passed by, the stories his friends and family told stay with me. Beautiful stories, silly stories, but all heart felt and sincere. Especially the ones from his children. Far too young to have to go through this– but even still, they shared such wonderful stories. They brought his memories to life.
Do you ever wonder who will tell your story? Tomorrow, after you’ve moved out of your community, after your kids leave the home, after you’ve passed on (to the next life should you believe in such)?
Not only what story will you leave behind, no, something else.