We live in a world of constant pushing,
where my youth has long since been relinquished.
My limbs are tugged upon in many directions by the hands of life’s unstoppable force,
my mind constantly tested by fears produced in irrationality.
It’s a strange feeling, this growing older,
as I await the start of a new chapter, unable to turn the pages to see how I end up.
So I sit at this headstone,
reading the names and dates of all who’ve come before me.
I used to struggle to accept that my name will someday join these.
But I know now that they are purposed not to be a pillar of grief,
but a remembrance of the people who inhabit the earth beneath.
My family sits here, joined in spirit by all of their battles, their growth, and their failures, each of which served in its end to bring me into this world.
I cherish the memories I have with them,
though I have forgotten many,
for I used to hate the boy I was,
but I see now.
Everything they did served to make me the man that kneels before them today.
And so I am grounded in an idea of simplicity and gratefulness,
I am tasked now with aggrandized goals not,
for, as I have told these remnants,
my life has found new purpose,
and my worries are curbed by a beauty far beyond the scope of my simple nature.
I wish you were all here to appreciate it as I do, but I know your lives led me to it,
and that fact provides solace enough.