And then peace

I'm at the age now where passings are becoming a norm.
Friends lose their parents,
their siblings,
their spouses,
uncles and aunties.
Sometimes I know the person who leaves,
often I don't.
Increasingly, I feel like their losses
are harbingers,
of our own ends drawing nearer.

I look at life and its multitude of unfinished tasks,
and think that perhaps passing is indeed peace.
Your work is done forever,
there is no one else left to impress,
nothing else that can be done.

We are not allowed, however, to think like this.
We wake up with an embrace of the sun,
and shout ourselves out of bed,
vowing to make the most of every new day.
We ignore the fact that we are moving a little more slowly,
tiring a little more easily, remembering less
with each passing day.