I often speak of seasonal change, of life cycles that return each year, heralding the birth of spring and the demise of winter. Such has marked the passing of time and the opportunity to reflect on life as lived. Yet, there is also life that does not return yet still leaves us with reminders of bygone days as offerings for learning and hope.

Cross Mound is not far from my home. As an ancient earthwork, little is known about this site. Still, one can trace the faint outline of a cross in the mound design and the spirit of life before remains. On our recent trek through this park, another, more contemporary sojourner left a memorial, symbolized in a small wooden cross delicately placed against a tree, along with a note secured in a bag. The note had degraded, and not enough of the wording was readable to complete even a single sentence. Yet, the meaning was still clear. Someone was missed, and the desire to remember that life was strong. So said the cross, the one at the mound and the one next to the tree.

We continued our journey until we reached the edge of the creek. There, more remnants of the past were seen, time etched in stone, immortalized in fossil form. On this day, we were one couple among very few people. Yet, we were never alone. We were part of a continuum of life before and life yet to be.

Knowing that the past remains even after life ceases is both a comfort and a responsibility. At the end of life, all of us leave our footprints behind in the lives we touch. Some of our footprints are tangible in our children and the work we performed in life. Other marks exist in memories and the impact we have on others – a thoughtful smile, a kind word or deed. Grand, isn’t it? Maybe we really do live forever.