When Do We Die
There is a tree along side the road I stop and spend time with every time I am out for a walk. It stands there amongst hundreds of others, but it is the only one I notice. It's different. It stands taller than the surrounding trees. It has no leaves. It never buds and it's bark is all but gone.
Is it dead?
To most people it may be. To me it is a vibrant reminder of a life well lived. Although it may no longer provide shade and is no longer growing—it still stands strong. It forces me to look at it. To observe the beauty it radiates.
When I stop to spend time with this tree I always ask myself, when do we truly die?
The answer is always, when we are forgotten.