I ran into a friend this evening at the grocery store, and we had to stop and catch up--it had been a while since we'd seen each other.
The conversation somehow touched on death, and I was instantly uncomfortable, not knowing how to proceed. You see, he lost his wife about 3 years ago. She was kayaking on a West Virginia river known for its class 5 rapids and somehow her kayak overturned.
I looked at my friend and said, "She was doing what she loved to do."
His eyes brightened and he nodded. "I know. That's it. What better way to go than to be in a beautiful place, on a beautiful day, in the company of your best friends, on a beautiful river, doing something you love? Much better than going out listening to beeps in a hospital bed."
His wife was quite a woman--an art teacher, award-winning sculptress and quilter, who homesteaded with him for many years in a little cabin way back in the hills. She had dogs that she loved, a husband who adored her, and a wide circle of friends. She had a life that many would envy, and she left it doing what she loved.
Would that we all could be so lucky.
Posted this evening to Storytell, but I wanted to share it here too.