Every death I experience serves as reminder that each day I am one day closer to my own death. Although I don’t know, exactly, when I will die, I do know that I will die (unless Jesus comes back first).  Every funeral I attend is the same as the one before and the ones from years and years ago.  We remember, we cry, and we move on.  It’s almost as if I can hear the tick-tick of my own mortality clicking away.  I can see the hands of time moving forward past each second that will never come again.  Sooner or later that clock will stop and I, too, will be buried in the dirt.  Now, when I attend a funeral, I think “it’s going to me in that coffin one day”.  I wonder if people will attend my funeral, who will cry, who will say nice things, and who will be thinking “when are we eating”.  The impact we have is so minimal as to be non-existent.  Sure, there are people who have had longer lasting influence in the world from our point of view but did they really?  Are the Hitler’s, Einstein’s, and Trumps from centuries ago remembered?  I doubt it. I’m sure there were extremely influential people in days gone by whose names have been forgotten.  I will be forgotten as well.  I am a speck of dust or grass in the wind.  My life is truly a vapor that is visible for a moment and then gone forever.  (written on 12/3/17 for


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