It may be that it is almost the middle of February and the length of winter in Vermont is beginning to push in on me. Maybe it is that, even though the sun is shining today, over the last four months or so there have been more gray days than sunny days. Maybe it is because it is still dark when I get up in the morning and the shades are pulled and the lights are turned on well before we sit down for dinner.
But maybe it is something more.
Maybe it is because at the age I am, this sense of sadness is just a part of life as it is.
Sadness over the loss of friends and loved ones who laughed with me and grew up with me and walked alongside me. Sadness over the all to regular news of cancer or stroke or illness of friends and loved ones who are my age. Sadness as I grapple to come to terms with the reality that life is finite. That my life is finite.
This is not about regrets.
Or a lack of gratitude.
Or some sense of anger or resentment.
This sadness is something different.
Something I have not felt in this way before.
As I live with it and, today try to put words around it
I wonder if maybe sadness is a cousin to gratitude.
I will have to sit with that thought for a while.
In the meantime
I will put on my shoes and walk through town with my dog.
And a bit later, I will meet a friend and we will spend a couple hours skiing together.
And later still, I will sit down to dinner with my wife and before we eat we will reach our hands across the dining room table and say Thank you.
Thank you for the day.
Thank you for each other and for the time and opportunities we have.
Thank you for our family and friends.
And alongside our thank you we will remember.