Remembering the Dead

I was with my grandfather on his last day on earth, July 3, 1969. It was just the two of us there in his bedroom; everyone else had gone to a family wedding. The last thing he said to me, after gifting me with a huge sack of change as "the only thing he had to leave me" and a story about how he had always found money on the street and saved it all, was that from then on, whenever I found a coin on the street it was him saying hello from Heaven. A few minutes later, he died.

So now when I find a penny, or a dime or a nickel or a quarter lying on the ground, I look up and say "Hi" right back to him. It happens quite often -- more than to most people. Naturally my grandfather is never far from my thoughts and it's been 54 years.

One year ago today my closest friend died, crossing paths with a speeding Freightliner at exactly the wrong moment. Debra was an avid birder who trapped hawks and other large avian species for scientific research purposes. She recognized every bird and was in awe of each and every one she saw overhead.

So now every time I see a bird in the sky -- or a speeding Freightliner -- I think of Deb. As you can imagine, she is never far from my thoughts.

The moral of the story: If you want your spirit to live on after your death, do something distinctly memorable.