It seems like November is the time of death. The leaves lose their color, the temperature drops, and skies become grey. I’ve had several relationships end in November, and I’ve known several people that died in that month. This seems especially true this year, as the TV goes on about the 50th anniversary of the deaths of John F. Kennedy, C. S. Lewis, and Aldous Huxley, and I find myself attending two memorial services in two days for members of my church family. Death seems to be hanging around.
But death isn’t crashing in. There isn’t stock and depression and weeping. It feels as natural as the tide going out. Death is just another season. There is nothing to fear or dread. It’s a part of life. For the Christian, it’s not the end. It’s a transition. The earthly world wanes into the spiritual. Life continues, free and space and time.
I think I’m supposed to be sad, but I’m not. The memorial services are part mourning, part celebration, but mostly just remembrance. Wasn’t she amazing? Wasn’t he great? And remember that funny time when…? It’s sad the deceased are gone. We won’t interact with them the same way. There is discomfort and pain and uncertainty is learning to get by without that person in your life. But the season changes; the blow softens with time. The dead go on to the next life. The living go on living until their time comes. The cycle repeats over and over. It will be my time one day. And my parents’. And my friends’. Death is a season of living, and it’s quite hard to fear something so reliable.
Death is all around, but it has no power here. Its season is over for now, and life goes on.