Réquiem ætérnam dona eis, Dómine.

A death of a grandparent of a friend the other day reminded me of past days of my youth, when to my mind, my grandparents were all-wise and powerful (they could even tell Mom and Dad what to do). I used to wonder how I could ever be so wise, let alone so old. Today, reflecting on what I owe them, as well as how I can be like them, I realize I have a long way to go. There is great hope and fear attached to that realization. The fear, of course, must be that I could fail. The hope, though also a fear: the venerable man I could be I am becoming with every choice and thought I have. Now that is scary thought. I don't mean that I define my essence, as an existentialist would hold. Rather, every choice, with its formation of my will, and every thought and the formation of my intellect; who I am now, with what I do now will make me as a man the father of the elder, just as the child is the father of the man. May we all recollect this, and the immense debt we owe our forerunners.