I was walking my dog yesterday morning through the neighborhood when I saw a young couple, who I do not know, saying good-bye. At least, that is what I assume they were doing. The were standing by a car, or rather the man was standing. The young woman had her legs wrapped strongly around his hips, their arms were in full embrace and they were lost in a deep kiss. What passion, what intensity and enthusiasm, I thought. Now THAT is a good-bye!!! As I started to turn my head, embarrassed to see such an intimate moment, and starting to feel pangs of nostalgia wash over me, another neighbor, who I do know drove between me and the lovers. This woman is closer to my age, in her late forties. I am not sure whether she saw me, the lovers, or not. She seemed to be looking straight ahead. To me her face looked slightly weary, perhaps she was lost in her thoughts about her job, her husband or three kids.
I could not help but contrast these visions with another I had seen earlier in the week. I visited a funeral home a few nights ago to pay my respects to the family of my neighbor who lived across the street from us for fifteen years. She had passed away and I recently figured out that she must have been 68 when we moved here to start our family. At that time, she was still grieving the loss of her husband who I never met. She was reclusive and suffered from a mental illness, but she was also fiercely independent, living alone, mowing her own yard and walking regularly more than a mile to and from the grocery store. At times it seemed her greatest joy in life was tending the beautiful flowers she grew in her yard.
At the funeral home, like a coward I stayed near the front door of the reception room, meeting a couple of her grown children for the first time. I few times though, I could not help but to steal a glance towards the rear of the room, where, with an open casket, it was clear that all the vitality had gone out of the bloom.
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