I don’t know if for these first gloomy autumn days or just my getting (and sometimes feeling) older, I often think about death and its meaning. And during a recent visit at the wonderful and peaceful “Not-Catholic Cemetery” in Rome, I had been thinking about what important lessons might come from the end of a human life when I noticed the sweet and meaningful image appeared to me and to my camera: a butterfly, resting on one of the many crosses of the cemetery. It was apparently ready to fly away as well. It seemed to me suddenly as a good metaphor of what could be the death.
I like thinking that the main lesson, given by the death of other people and especially of the most honorable ones (whose bones this place is full), is to try and live with intensity and gratitude, with awareness of our limit of time and with the hopeful astonishment in front of the mere fact of being there. I cannot ignore the unavoidable fate of every human being but it must become the strongest and most powerful memento: present moment goes and the worst way of spending it is considering it for granted and that it will be necessarily followed by another one. Well, it can sound obvious but this sequence is not so necessary.