When you’ve emptied the cup, it seems like all that is left is a few drops at the bottom. But really, you still have the cup, and the hand that holds it. And, if you’re lucky, the hands of those who would sit with you and share a cup.
When you look at something in your life that feels empty, what holds that emptiness?
As I age into my late 80s, I sense the imminent approach of death. It sometimes preoccupies my thoughts. Not only do I wonder about what happens after life, but I also consider how it may feel physically to die. It gives me a sense of sadness since to me it is giving up all of the pleasures (and sorrows) of living. My hopeful philosophy is in being remembered by those who have known me as my value of having lived. Does being remembered really ever end? Are there wisps of the memory of me that hang around in the world for a long time…or forever? Perhaps this is “my surrounding cup” as depicted in the photo. When I consider how many memories I retain of those whom I have known before their deaths, I believe that those memories form a protective shawl around my shoulders that can comfort me in my contemplative moments and serve as my shield against doubting.