In Passing

It's another beautiful day here near the nation's capital. So was yesterday, but there were clouds inside. The kids were awakened in the wee hours yesterday morning by one of those dreaded telephone calls: The Boy's father had passed away. His passing was not unexpected, but the timing was. It happened sooner than expected.

Butterfly woke us later with the sad news and the request for a lift to an appointment and then to work. It was a pre-natal appointment. As the kids look forward to adding new life to their family, an older life has slipped away. Gilles was not that old, not very much older than I. We met a few times, and I liked him. He was French and hesitant about his English, but he always tried, and I admired his effort and was rather impressed with how well he did in his second language.

As we drove Butterfly to work yesterday, I was touched by the beauty of the day. The sun sits lower in the sky now that autumn is upon us, and it bathes the landscape in a gentle and inspiring light that enriches the already golden fields and the already resplendent leaves. It's a feast to this pilgrim's eyes and spirit.

It's rather glorious, this autumn season. It does not beat with the exuberance of spring or the vigour of summer, but it is rather glorious, and because we know that winter approaches, we seem to appreciate it deeply. We inhale the crispness of its breath and drink of its artistic canvas.

I speak both of the reality of the season and of the metaphorical autumns of our lives. I have been so very pleased to be alive and able to live my little life these past few weeks. I like to think that I am almost always content, but I have been more than that recently, for I have felt deep pleasure in the taking of my breaths and the seeing of my sights. Until yesterday, there have been good tidings -- the engagement of the girls, the miraculous beginning of the life of my grandchild, and the beginning of my music lessons -- but I rather think it is more than that. I think it is the enhanced appreciation of life as my own winter draws closer. In a sense, I seem to feel more alive, for as one of Cuppa's favourite quotes says:

Death is the sugar that gives life its pizazz.
It makes life really sweet.

Today, we'll drive Butterfly to Montreal so that she can stand beside her husband and mother-in-law in these difficult hours. But I'll also feast on the joy of being alive for one more day and for whatever time The Creator will grant me.