As the World Rotates on Its Axis

The other day someone who I had met a few times -- maybe had seen and talked to less than five times -- died. I felt sadness for the loved ones he left behind, and for my best friend, who was one of those loved ones, but I did not really, truly, personally feel a loss. Then I watched a slide show of his life, a tribute to him, in the sequence of his life. Photos began from perhaps the early 1940s, black and white photos of a handsome, kind-looking young man, playing on the baseball team, in the military, holding babies who now are well into adulthood, photos of him with his small children at Christmastime, at work with another man, both of whom wore funky 1970s polyester suits, and then photos with his grandchild and the rest of the family. It was a long slide show and I felt myself smiling in wonder at the seemingly happy, pleasant and full life he had. I felt I had a much deeper understanding of this man who died and the memories he left behind. It was like a huge puzzle being put together with all those pictures -- there was a man, at the end of all this life he had, who I met, but there was so much more life to him after having seen the photos. I have only gone to a handful of funerals, but of those few, I've never had the pleasure of seeing a slide show/tribute of the photos of a person's life, showing the milestones, changes, births, and other significant events of a person's life. It was beautiful. I like pictures.