By Lynna Clark

A group of older ladies were clucking along in their sewing circle complaining of their aches and pains. Each of them was dealing with something different. There was a pause and one of the ladies wisely commented. “I like being old. Everybody gets to be young. But not everyone gets to be old.”

I’ve been thinking on that with David’s birthday coming up. Even though he was 69 when he passed last summer just before his July birthday, he never really acted old. His skin was smooth [he got that from his mom]. He still had good hair [he got that from his dad] until the very end. I always loved his hair. But his quick dry wit was the best sign of his young heart. I loved how funny he could be. He used to say that sarcasm was his spiritual gift. But he never made a joke at the expense of others. His wit was always kind.

I told him once that I wanted a sign for our yard for the many people using our road as a shortcut. They fly past our house through our neighborhood like a bunch of NASCAR wannabees. The sign would say, “Drive Like YOUR Grandkids Play Here!” He shook his head.. “No. We are not going to be those people.” Since I was not used to hearing the word no from him, I was truly surprised. He followed up by saying, “And we are not going to be those grumpy old people who shout at little kids in church, ‘Stop running!’ We will be the ones that hand out candy with noisy wrappers.”

He also told me one time that when he died he wanted to be cremated, mixed in with black paint and sprayed onto his motorcycle. That way he could keep on riding. So to the guy who bought his bike, stop by the houses sometime. I’ve got something special for you.

Happy Birthday in Heaven my Beloved. Though I’m glad you aged well, I’m even more thankful that now you are forever young.