Changing of the Guard

It's not so much that this is my 67th birthday, nor the fact that nearly everything "hurts" anymore, but rather the stark realization that the guard has changed again. In 2007, I lost (only in an earthly sense) my brother, Johnathan (yes, that's misspelled correctly just like his twin brother Benjamen) but also that year that last of my grand-parents generation were promoted to their eternal reward. Bubba, my paternal grand-mother, was called home on February 11, and just before the end of the year, her little brother's wife, Gaynelle, also left this mortal realm. This was really the first ending of a generation that I could remember. I remember my great-grandmother who died when I was not even old enough to start school. I remember my mother's great-aunt, Mary from when I was in grade school. But it wasn't until I was a teenager and my grandfather died that I realized the next generation was beginning to come to a close. So it was in 2007 that generation finally was no more.

This year, 2017, just a short ten years later, the next generation has passed from the scene. In April, my father died (thankfully we had just spent some time with him around his birthday in March.) Then within three weeks the last two of my mother's sisters also died. It didn't hit me exactly then, and I can't tell you when it did, but not only has the guard changed again, but I'm the third oldest of my generation, with only my cousin Larry and Danny (three years and two years older) ahead of me. Hopefully this next generation will take more than ten years to pass along the mantle to the next. But then I have begun to give thanks every morning when I awaken, even though most of my body is reminding me that I am very much alive.