Yesterday my brother posted the most amazing picture of
three generation of men – father, son, grandson. My father, my brother and my
nephew all sitting in a row and it was so interesting to see so much in their
faces. The end of the line for one, my father. The middle of the line for the other,
my brother. And the beginning of the line for the other, my nephew. Father, son
and grandson.
Life has a funny way of showing us the passage of time. The history
of life on the faces of people. On our faces.
A way of letting us know that this life is ours for the taking and if we
don’t take it, we will live with mush regret. We will go out with much regret.
We each hold the responsibility to pass the torch to each
generation. Either with compassion or with degradation. So it is up to all of
us to live our lives as fully and as joyfully as we can because we leave the
next generation with the hope or loss of what comes next. And soon each one of
us will be reaching the end of the line. And what story will our faces tell?
I love looking at the picture of my father, brother and
nephew all sitting in a row because it is almost like looking in a mirror at
youth passing from one generation to the next. My nephew with his eyes all bright
and open to the possibility that awaits him. Still bright eyed and bushy tailed
about what comes tomorrow. My brother somewhat accepting of the truth of where
his life is. His eyes not as bright as his son’s but still full of hope and mischief. My father scared about what
comes next as he stares down the end of the road for himself. But the three of
these men sitting together taking care of each other. Reaching out to each
other made me see something I had not
seen before - each face is the face of the torch being carried on.
My nephew having the young face of his father, my brother. The
face I remember of my baby brother. The brother I helped to raise after our
mother died. The brother who is now a man and father before I even became a
mother. Sitting with his father and now having the face of our father as I
remember him looking when I was growing up. And my father now looking probably
like his father, the grandfather I never met because he had died before I was
born.
Life is fully of history, stories and faces – our faces
telling the story of our lives. What story are we telling with our faces? What
lives are we living that are leaving impressions on our faces for others to see
and feel.
Three generation of men - father, son, grandson from the world’s
perspective. Son and grandson from my father’s perspective. Father and son from
my brother’s perspective. Grand father and father from my nephew’s perspective.
And father, brother and nephew from my
perspective. Each representing someone slightly different to each one of us touched
by this poignant photo. This photo that has so many stories to tell and from so many different
perspectives depending on who looks at it and interprets it. Just like our lives – each one of us with a slightly
different story from a slightly
different perspective. But each one of us looking for the same thing in the end
– the ability to give and receive love. And to know that someone will tell our
story when we are long gone. Someone will speak our names with honour, love and
respect.
The story of three men in the waiting room – indicative of
the waiting room of life – all depending on how we choose to live our lives will
dictate the story on our faces – the story of our lives.
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