Boat Whistles and Goodbyes

As a young boy and even in my early adult years, I cannot recall attending many wake-visitations or funerals; the exercise seemed removed from my relevance. In recent years, I find two activities more a part of my routine and they are escalating. I have more doctor appointments, to the extent that I am beginning to treat those moments as 'social.' I also find myself attending family and friends' funerals with greater frequency.

There is a scene in the 1957, movie classic, An Affair to Remember, which comes to mind each time I attend a funeral. In the movie, an old Italian lady is visiting with her nephew at her Italian seaport villa where the nephew has just landed. Soon the ship's whistle blows loudly from a distance,       signaling that it will be departing. The old woman, with tears swelling in her eyes, looks at her young adult nephew, reaches out with trembling hands to grasp his and speaks in broken English, "I don't like boat whistles." It is not the boat whistle she dislikes but it is the realization that the sound indicates their time together has slipped away for this moment. However, the movie scene suggests with certainty that more than a moment has likely fleeted away. Considering distance and the old lady's age, both the nephew and woman are aware of a sharing expiration.

Perhaps the most sobering of life's realization is the absolute fact that age does not necessarily insure us of tomorrow. It was a few weeks ago that I stood in the wake visitation line with a former basketball player of mine, Bobby Hoffman as we waited our moment to express our sorrow to another former player whose father had died. The gentleman for whom we were paying respect, Bill Kaufmann had lived a relatively long and wonderful life. Although it is seldom easy to bury family and friends, let's acknowledge that we can accept perceived 'living-time-fulfillment' departures. In my wildest imagination, I would not think that moment was my last  to share with Bobby; yesterday, nearly one thousand friends and family members gathered to 'let go.' We had to say 'goodbye' to a forty-one year old husband-father.

It is not a supposition but a fact established from the beginning of time; we never know when our boat whistle shall sound. Today, I intend to be more mindful of shared moments.