I wrote a few weeks ago about a dear lady in our church who is in a nursing home...Mrs. R. Two weeks ago, her husband, Mr. R. passed away. His funeral was probably one of the saddest ones I've ever been to. I felt so sorry for Mrs. R. because I don't know if she even knew of his passing or could even comprehend it at this point. I felt so sorry for both of them because I don't even know the last time they had seen eachother. They lost the presence of one another and with that, they seemed to have lost their strength. I don't even know that they got to say goodbye to one another.
With Mr. R's passing, comes the stark reminder that an entire generation is passing away and frankly that just makes me sad. Its a generation of women named, Olive, Pearl, and Midge. Men named, Percival, Eugene, and Albert. Quickly passing are first-hand memories of WWII and rationing; full-service gas stations and the art of letter writing.
I find such comfort in older people. Gray-haired ladies who have mastered the art of cooking recipes that have been handed down for generations and men who still wear hats. People who entertain us not with the latest movie but with stories and tales of the good old days.
These are our treasures. Those who remain still have so much to offer. Remember them this holiday season.
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