![Candle[1]](https://lenleatherwood.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/candle1.jpg)
I learned today that my childhood friend, Cheryl Hicks, has died of a heart attack, just three weeks before her 60th birthday. I went from first grade through twelfth with Cheryl and spent a good amount of time at her home growing up. I haven’t seen her in a long time, but she is one of those people who I knew well for many years in that little town of mine and I’m sad to learn of her death. Her father owned an Edsel, which I thought was interesting even then and they lived in a house that was near the baseball field. Her mother had a friendly smile and a gentle laugh, which Cheryl had as well.
This passing coincides with my own 60th birthday, which was Monday. Of course, Cheryl’s death gives me pause. There but for the grace of God, go I. Yes, indeed. I can’t imagine that my friend lived an unhealthy lifestyle. The picture of her in her obituary shows that she was slim and healthy. She had several children and grandchildren and a husband, all of whom are no doubt grieving tonight over her untimely death. God bless them all.
Turning 60 provides ample reason to re-group and think about how to approach life. Hearing this news of Cheryl’s passing gives this birthday even more import. I don’t want to make idle promises to myself and others; I think that is a waste of time for all. Instead, I want to be grateful for all I have and for the love I share and to resolve to live everyday the best I can. Of course, I want to be that woman at 96 who started doing yoga at age 60 and has done it everyday since then. Of course, I’d love to be that person who is healthier at this age then I was when I was younger because I am living more consciously. Of course, I want to keep my body, mind and soul active so that I can be around to enjoy the love of my incredible family and friends. But, one lesson I have learned from living this long is not to ever think I am exempt. That clock ticks for all of us.
So, I offer a prayer for my old friend, Cheryl, and one also for her family. May light perpetual shine upon her soul and may those who loved her be comforted at this time of her passing. As for me, I will pinch myself that I have made it another day and hope that I will make it yet another.
As for you, my friends, I wish you all good health and happiness.
20 Minutes a Day 
I hope you won’t find this an intrusion, posting on such a delicate subject. I write about my birthday, which occurs three days before Christmas, almost every year. Here is a link to my 2012 piece, which I would like for you to read, for comparison’s sake. Written as a Facebook post, it is not polished. But the bones are there. I think it interesting that although we approach the topic of aging from different points of view, we arrive at the same conclusions.
One of the things I admire most about your writing is that you are able to broach highly emotional topics in a matter-of-fact tone. Matter-of-fact, but not detached. The emotion is there, but underplayed.
I, on the other hand, sing hail hallelujahs and never pass up a chance for trombone slides and a dramatic crash of cymbals. People often tell me that tears are shed upon surveying my prose, which is humbling, but not my intent. Subtlety is beyond my grasp, it seems. But I have learned a thing or two from reading your recent posts here. One is to pay attention to the pianissimos of phrasing. And to save the cymbals for the Fourth of July.
Bless you and your dear friend. SO sad when a life ends too soon and it must be very sombering. Wishing you many decades of love with your family.
Gary, I just read your piece. I put my comment there, but, suffice it to say, I loved the trombone slides and cymbal crashes. Thank you for your comments about my writing.
Thank you so much. I appreciate you taking the time to comment.
I’m sorry about your friend, Len. “Do not ask for whom the bell tolls….” I marvelled when I hit the 60 mark because I remembered thinking as a kid that “I might live long enough to see the century change!” And I turned 60 two years past that. As a kid, 60 was just short of the grave and maybe not so short in many cases. Over the years as I piled on my own years, I’d read obits and see the age of 60 +/- and think, “S/he lived a good long life.” And now that I’m past my 71st birthday that doesn’t seem so long, though the “good life” part is something I think about more often. I’m thinking of that old song by Rare Earth, “I just want to celebrate another day of livin’.” Just another day is always a good day, no matter what kind of day it might be. Thanks for a thought provoking post.
Thanks so much, Sam. You always have a way of expounding on what I’ve written in just the perfect way. I appreciate that.