Humbling…

It’s my father’s birthday. He would be 95. He died a few years ago, and I was so privileged to be with him when he passed.

For most of us, dying takes a while.

If we can quiet our inner panic, emotion, and fear, the process has lessons for each of us.

This is a poem written by a homeless woman in San Francisco on the day she died in hospice:

Don’t just stand there with your hair turning gray,
soon enough the seas will sink your little island.
So while there is still the illusion of time,
set out for another shore.
No sense packing a bag.
You won’t be able to lift it into your boat.
Give away all your collections.
Take only new seeds and an old stick.
Send out some prayers on the wind before you sail.
Don’t be afraid.
Someone knows you’re coming.
An extra fish has been salted.

— Mona (Sono) Santacroce (1928 – 1995)

~

Few of us get to pick the time, or even the means.

But we can choose what we leave behind by the way we treat others, especially the least of these, our fellow sojourners:

Don’t be afraid.

Set out for another shore.

Someone knows you’re coming.

An extra fish has been salted.

I love you, Dad.