A meditation on a passage from Ecclesiastes in memory of my mother (who died in December 2020) and my father (who died in June 2002)... When my father was dying, he wrote his own obituary and chose texts and hymns for his funeral. One of the texts he chose was Ecclesiastes 1:7, which includes the phrase I've used as a title for this painting. When the pastor heard "Ecclesiastes," he assumed Dad wanted the "usual" words about a time for everything (in chapter 3). So the text Dad selected was not the one that was read at his funeral, but it is the one that comes to mind now when I think about both deaths. I take this as a reminder not only of how much is out of our hands but also how often what is not said is more important than what is.