Tres Septimanas

rbs

We have made an enemy of Death, out of fear and ignorance. In these stark and bitter days of winter’s last grip upon us, it is not lost on me that soon its stranglehold will give way to spring and new life will blossom in its wake. As the seasons change, so do we.

Three weeks ago, winter came early for one of my oldest friends. In time, it comes for all of us. But the promise of spring is what waits just beyond winter’s reach and, though my friend has embarked upon the great journey into mystery, I have faith that he is born anew.

Socrates wrote, “All men’s souls are immortal, but the souls of the righteous are immortal and divine.”

I cannot think of him in the past tense. He is ever-present. Death has not ended our friendship. It has merely given it wings.

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