In Pico Iyer's book Autumn Light, he writes about experiencing autumn in Japan after his Japanese father-in-law passes away. He takes up ping-pong with some elderly neighbours in Nara and visits shrines and talks about family with his wife.
Through all of this he reflects on the cultural significance of autumn and the turning of seasons to the Japanese, the way the changing of leaves and light symbolise the ephemeral nature of all things - especially human lives.
A colleague of mine died a few weeks ago. In the art mentoring course I recently joined he was one of the senior students, a kind and welcoming big-brother type who loved hiking, painting and getting involved in his community.
I didn't know him too well, but I really enjoyed seeing him in our Zoom classes, and I was really looking forward to getting to know him better and catching up with his work. And now I never will.
People vanish out of our lives, or fade away, all the time. Circumstances intervene, people move - even in the social media age, people can disappear. But when someone you were in touch with is suddenly gone, you realise you have lost your chance to ever have them in your life again.
As we grow older we lose more friends and loved ones, and even new friends are not guaranteed to stay around. But they have all left their bright colours on our lives and in our memories.
We pay our respects to them, and think of them as the leaves fall, and hopefully we learn to cherish those who are still with us even more.
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