“Death tugs at my ear and says:  ”Live, I am coming.”

— Oliver Wendell Holmes

“Why do people have to die,” asks a child, “why can’t we just live forever?”  There is a certain innocence in such a question that makes it nearly universal for children.  The carefree days of childhood are filled with such optimism and such bliss that it seems there could be nothing better than going on forever.  As we grow older, the question changes a bit.  ”What is the meaning of my life?  Will I fulfill my destiny before my time runs out?”  Older still, the question sometimes becomes, “Why should I still be here when all my loved ones are gone?”  Whatever the questions might be, death is a subject that follows us throughout our lives.  There is no escaping our mortality.

Today I spent my first autumn day in the woods.  Fall in our area has barely begun to touch the trees, and many of the leaves still are vital and green and clinging to the branches, able to withstand the breeze that has begun to turn chilly.  Still, there is Fall in the air — I suppose you could say that there is Death in the air, because soon the trees will stand bare and stark as winter sends them into hibernation.

For some people, this is a terribly sad time of year, because they really don’t want to think about endings.  I think of my own parents, living in a warm climate where the trees never shed their leaves; and I wonder whether there is a subconscious choice at work for them to choose a land that is always green and lush.

It is interesting that people seem to view our companion, Death, in two very different ways.  To some, Death is the ultimate enemy who must be defeated and held at bay for as long as possible.  They see him as a fearsome foe who lurks in the shadows and tries to steal away their lives.  Others befriend Death and welcome him as a traveling companion.  They see that he doesn’t whisper, “die.”  Instead, he reminds them to live every moment as though he stood right next to them — because he does.

Our job is to hear his whisper and to be sure that we spend each minute we have being fully alive.  As I watched the first colorful leaves drift downward from the highest branches of the trees, I could hear them whispering, “Yes!”  Even at the final hour, they used their time to be transformed into something beautiful — something magnificent.  Could we possibly hope to pay such a colorful tribute to the life we are given?  Listen to the whisper of Death in your ear and understand that he is here to remind you to live.