I am a boomer I guess, although maybe an echo of the boom. I was born in 1959 after most of the boomers were already born. Still my folks were part of what Tom Brocaw labeled "The Greatest Generation" they survived the depression and the war. Over the years fate had been pretty kind to me. I hadn't lost any of the people who were closest to me. My Grandparents were gone but the closest people to me were still intact. We all have a sense that we are invincible and this served to reinforce that. Then in the fall of 2005 I had a heart attack. Living in an isolated northern community there would be a four hour wait for a medevac plane to take me to hospital in Yellowknife. Suddenly I did not feel so invincible. The bubble had burst and having reached middle age I began to loose some of the people I cherished most. Family and friends.
A few years ago one of my closest childhood friends, Mike got a call from his Father. His Dad had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He rushed over to the house and found his father seated in front of the bay window which faced the lake. He sat beside him in the chair his Mother would normally sit in. For a time nothing was said, the two men sat side by side in silence. Then his Father turned to him in a calm level voice that was typical of him he said "This is not the worst thing that could happen to me.". Mystified Mike said "What do you mean, you've just been told that you are going to die.". "No, his Dad replied "the worst thing that could happen to me was if you were dying!". Sons bury Fathers, it is not easy but it is the natural order of life. In a further twist Mike lost his Mother to cancer just six weeks before his Father. They were both just seventy.
Shortly after this I lost a man I always thought of as my second Father. Clarence was married to my Mother's cousin. I used to spend summers with them working the family's dairy farm. Clarence was a good christian who loved God and loved life. His smile lit up a room, he was full of life and full of fun. He had a mischievous sense of humor and loved a bit of harmless fun, often teasing me when I was younger. He and his wife Gertrude attended my college graduation. In later years Clarence had contracted cancer. It was his heart that took him, in the end. His son and I discussed his death and he said "It's how Dad would have wanted to go, he wouldn't have wanted the cancer to come back." It was a peaceful end and for that I was grateful. There was a sense again that the natural order of life was intact.
A while later A good friend of mine got up early one morning as was his custom. His wife was tired and she turned over and went back to sleep. After a busy morning he returned home and asked the kids where their mother was. "Still sleeping." They said. He checked on her and found her dead of an aneurysm. She was 39. The couple had been role models for the entire community. They took leadership roles in the church, organized family events, Mother's Day brunches, sliding parties for the kids. Her husband was active in the volunteer Fire Department. No one could believe that such an active and productive life had ended so early. Least of all another lady who was a mutual friend and the wife's best friend. She took the news very hard. She suffered a life crisis, she lost her faith and soon separated from her husband. "If there was a Gad he would never take her of all people!" she insisted. She was inconsolable. I felt helpless in the wake of such a tragedy. How could a loving God allow such a thing? Death seemed to be stalking me. I felt surrounded by it. In no way could this be interpreted as the natural order of life, a healthy vibrant Mother snatched from her family in the prime of life. How could you reconcile that with any natural order?
Then in March of this year I lost my very best friend of all when my Father passed away at the age of 87. I miss him terribly. In his last years he had suffered from Dementia and had deteriorated to the point where he seldom recognized me anymore. Still he knew we were there to see him and he responded to our conversation. I would catch flashes of his former self and was delighted when he would, out of the blue, call me by name. I accepted his death with the consolation that again, a son was burying a Father. That this also fit the natural order of things. I would not have forced him to stay beyond his time but I would not have wished for him to go one moment sooner either.
As if I needed it, life dealt me another reminder of my mortality when I was again medevacced and hospitalized with heart problems. I ended up in Edmonton and was given a second angioplasty. I was left with a lot more time on my hands than I normally get and was given some time to think about death and life. I have had a number of realizations perhaps even an Epiphany. I thought about one of the funerals I attended not so long ago where the Priest talked about the dash that comes between the year we are born and the year we died on a person's headstone. "It's all there..." He said "In that dash. Your whole life summed up by a dash." That's it, that's all you get. No more, no less. That dash sums up all you were, all you did. In Mitch Albom's book Tuesdays With Morrie Mitch's beloved professor is dying of ALS and he tells Mitch about the Buddhist belief that a little bird sits on our shoulder and we should ask that bird "Is today the day?" "Is today the day when I shall die?" That we should live every day as if it were our last. One thing I have learned is that life is way too short for anger, there is nothing heavier to carry than a grudge. I never hesitate to tell the people I love that I love them. What harm can it do? Who ever gets tired of hearing it? I have a friend who told me that his parents have never told him that they love him and he has never said it to them. "It's understood." he says. What nonsense. Is saying it going to confuse matters? Of course not! Say it! Say it often! Send them a card, call them. Don't spend years regretting what would only take seconds to do.
Act like there is no tomorrow because for certain one day you will be right. Think of that little bird on your shoulder. We have no control over that dash on our headstone. We can't control how long our lives can be. It is not only important to live the length of our lives but to live the width of our lives. Spread ourselves out live as widely as possible, touch as many people as you can. Be a leader, be a volunteer. Change the lives of others, touch everyone in the center of your life, friends and family, but also touch those on the edges of your life, your community, your country, your fellow man. They too are your brothers and sisters. Let them know you love them too. Raise money for charity, give of your time. Help a shut in. Shovel a neighbors walk, mow an elderly neighbor's lawn. Be as wide as you can.
I have not lost my faith, no tragedy will shake it. My friend Marilyn may have died at 39 but she lived not just the entire length of her life but the width of it as well. She did more in her 39 years than many people do in 80 years. My Bible tells me that God is love. I know that love exists, I saw it in everything that Marilyn, Clarence, John and Dad did. God is very much alive so long as there are people willing to love others and not be afraid to let it show. How wide are you living?
No comments:
Post a Comment