We had an evening meeting last night, but it ended early and so we had a bit of extra time in the evening that we had not anticipated. Since it stays light late, we decided to take a slightly longer walk along the beach than our usual. After walking a bit over two miles as the sun was setting with the sea breeze gently cooling after a warm day, we paused to simply look. Often, when we go for a walk, we are eager to get back home and get on with the usual list of things that need to be done. Last night, however, we were able to linger. We stood and watched as the sun made its final plunge beneath the horizon, watching the changing colors of the clouds as the sun set. We weren’t the only ones watching the sunset. The beach at Birch Bay is a favorite spot for tourists and locals to linger watching the sunset. The sun reflects off of the water, making the view particularly lovely.

Having had a good walk and coming to the end of a busy day, the pause and calm were welcome gifts. The beauty of the setting sun provided a visual attraction for us to linger. Just being together was a gentle feeling. I know that my attempts to describe the experience in words will fall short.

Worth noting, however, was the way that the colors continued to shift and change even after the sun had sunk below the horizon. Of course I know that the sun isn’t sinking at all. Our planet is spinning and our perspective on the sun changes as the earth rotates on its axis. Still, from our point of view it seems as if the sun is moving more than having the sensation of the earth’s motion.

If one wants to get technical, it is also true that some of the colors we witnessed last night were the product of smoke and dust particles suspended in the atmosphere. The brilliance of the afterglow is caused, in part, by dust in the high stratosphere, which catches the hues of the twilight arch below the horizon.

Giving ourselves the gift of time to watch the sunset was a reminder to me about the life journey we are sharing. I have often begun to think of sunset as a metaphor for the retirement phase of our lives. After sharing intertwining careers for more than four decades, we are now sharing the closing of our careers. Like many other things in life - and like the sunset itself - our careers are not ending suddenly. We were fully retired for a bit more than a year. Then we went back to work part time for a couple of years. Now we will be fully retired again in 20 days. But we know that we may choose to go back to work once again. Instead of a rigid date after which we don’t work for pay any longer, we are enjoying exploring what offerings might appear. We don’t have to rush to find work, but we will be keeping our senses tuned to see which directions the spirit is calling us.

It is possible that our lives and health also will not come to sudden ends. At least I hope that we will be able to linger through the years to come long enough to witness some of the intense beauty of the sunset of our lives. Over the years we have been with enough people at the ends of their lives to know that it is not something to fear and that there is deep meaning and great beauty in the twilight years of life. Lingering to see all the beauty seems like a worthwhile way to go.

I know that none of use gets to choose the timing or the way of our death. Part of dying is losing control, but for now, investing in our health, making choices about diet and exercise with care, and focusing on our relationships with loved ones and friends seem to us to bee worthwhile ways to focus our attention and to witness the beauty that is unfolding.

Even after the sunset, there is a beautiful afterglow.

The worth, the meaning, and the beauty of life doesn’t end with death. Even in the presence of death’s realities, there is much beauty that remains. Fortunately for me, I’ve been privileged to witness that beauty many times. I remember times when I sat with people who had just experienced a sudden and traumatic loss. Often it seems like all of the stages of grief are present in a few short moments. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance all flow through a person in about 20 minutes. The process can be incredibly intense with a lot of tears. I’ve seen people collapse to the ground as they try to sort through their emotions and adjust to the new realities of their lives. After those first few minutes, however, there is an intense beauty that begins to emerge. A few memories are shared and sharing memories begins to feel good, even though the pain of grief is ever present. Friends and relatives begin to gather and it becomes obvious that those closest to the grief are not alone. Love has not died. The beauty of supportive community becomes increasingly evident as time passes.

I ended the evening with a deep sense of gratitude for the gift of sunsets and the lessons they have to teach us. Linger to witness the beauty that occurs at endings. Know that the beauty remains even when the sun is no longer visible. Look for the beauty that comes in the midst of deep grief. Witness the love that does not die.

As we move into the next stages of our life journeys, I hope that we take more time to linger with sunsets and to sit in the afterglow looking at the silver linings of the clouds. Perhaps sunsets are more than metaphors. They may be rehearsals for the realities of what is yet to come.