A Poem for My Generation (In Memory of Will Langmore)

And the years whirl by…

We arrive.

Black and white photos tell of birthday parties. 

People we’ll know forever.

Great grandparents we may never meet.

Mom at her best.

Dad in his youth.

All of our firsts.

Our favorite pets.

Brothers, sisters, cousins.

And the years whirl by…

Colored photos show elementary school. 

Our teachers.

Learning and growing.

Awkward middle school moments. 

High school friends and memories.

Boyfriends, girlfriends, friends, college, graduations and parties.

Places we love. 

The moments we might otherwise forget.

Falling in love.

Marriage. 

And the years whirl by…

Will’s photos capture our children. 

Their facial expressions. Individuality. 

Treasured moments in time

We cannot recreate.

And the years whirl by…

We work.

Raise children.

And look to succeed. And then succeed when we stop looking.

We develop a deeper realization that people are precious. 

Time is precious.

And we experience loss…

Deeper than words. 

Hugs mean more. 
Goodbye means more.

Saying I love you means more.

And the years whirl by…

Let’s stop here. Because here we are. 

Older. 

Hopefully wiser. 

Prayerfully more patient.

Less judgmental. 

More loving.

Aware of eternity.

Many of us without mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers… 

Clinging to meaningfulness. 

What is true. 

What matters. 

We forge on as caretakers.

Parents. 

Best friends. 

The people responsible. 

We are children with wrinkles.

Because on the inside

We are still the children in the black and white photos. 

Age only enhances our desire for unfailing, unconditional, eternal love. 

And the unwavering confidence

That in the end

We will be together again.

And we will. 

kathleen o’neill whitten 3.31.19