Courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leslie Jones Collection
But it's also a space between one time and another. The following poem make me stop and consider what that time looks like.
I'm glad you're in my dash
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end.
He noted that first came her date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears.
But he what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth...
And now only those who loved her
Know what the little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own,
The cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To think of what's true and real,
And always try to understand
The way other people feel,
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we'd treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
May last only a little while.
So when your eulogy's being read
With your life's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how your spent your dash?