“Death, the one appointment we all must keep, and for which no time is set.” –Charlie Chan
Yesterday I got to hang out with my Mom on her 69th birthday. Just like every year, I felt blessed to be with her on her special day, and even more grateful that she is alive and kicking. Just a week ago, after all, she had paid me a surprise visit, as she had to drive her brother to town for an emergency open-heart surgery. I was reminded that, even though 69 is not exactly ancient, something—like an emergency heart surgery—could happen at any time. Obviously, none of us is ever promised another breath—we could all go at any moment—but, just as obviously, the odds go up with each passing year.
My father had a major heart attack and quadruple bypass surgery nineteen years ago, on the night of my Mom’s 50th birthday. Even though I wouldn’t have categorized our relationship as “close,” this incident shook me to my core. I remember sitting alone in the hallway outside of the Intensive Care Unit, sobbing like a baby. I had never lost a family member or close friend, and I was clearly not prepared to do so. Not much has changed on that front in the ensuing nineteen years. My grandparents and two cousins have died, yes, but those happened at times that were expected given their circumstances, and I had thus built up my emotional mattress on which to land comfortably enough. But, I am grateful to report that no one in my immediate family or closest friend group has died. I have to cross my fingers and knock on wood as I type this, because I am well aware that I have been extremely lucky on this front and that my number is bound to come up soon.
My parents are now 72 and 69, and, in terms of generations at least, they are next in line to go. That was the one realization that hit me the hardest when my Mom’s father—and my last remaining grandparent—died two years ago: how awful it would feel to not have (living) parents anymore. That would seemingly be soon mixed with the other potentially troubling pill to swallow: that you are the next in line to go. While most of us can go through most of our lives in complete denial of death’s inevitability, I am guessing that is not an easy trick to pull off when there is no generation older than you at the family reunion.
With the birth of my children, I definitely became more invested in extending my stay on the planet (see my “Clinging to Life on Earth” from May 30, 2014). But in general, I have a much easier time with the idea of my own death than that of someone near and dear to me. I don’t know exactly what it is. I don’t think it is about leaving things unsaid, as I have done fairly well in letting people know how I feel about them. I had the chance this weekend to visit my great-uncle–closing in on 90–and I told him that he is the most kind-hearted man I had ever known. I had long wanted him to know that, so it felt good to get off my chest. If I don’t see him again, I am glad I left it that way. I think I am fairly solid in that department with most of my loved ones. I am also quite clear that it is not about uncertainty or fear regarding what comes after life on Earth; I have no problems with that. I don’t dread what comes next, for me or anyone else. So what is it? Why am I so unwilling to let people die?
I think that it must be rooted in the potential richness of future experiences. I am so deeply and unapologetically about living life to its fullest and “not, when I came to die, discover that I have not lived,” as Thoreau said. With that, I think I have an unrealistic need for the winds of Fate to blow just the right way for me, for everything to come up aces. My vision of The Best Life for William has all of my loved ones in it and thriving for a very long time, and my children getting to know their grandparents the way I knew mine. As a constant chronicler of my world—both through my journals and photographs—I adore looking back on the pages and pictures to find images of a life blessed with a happy, healthy family and good friends. It pains me greatly to even imagine these days and years passing without a key ingredient in this idyllic scene that is my life. It would just seem so much LESS to visit my Mom on her birthday and have Dad not be there, or to walk my kids through this world without my wife’s hand holding up the other end of our chain. LESS. Less rich. Less joyous. Less unstoppably beautiful as I believe Life to be. I don’t want Less. I reject it for my world.
I can see as I write this that I am in for a mighty fall some day. Neither Fate nor I have equipped me very well to deal with a loss like this, and I seem destined to crumble like a house of cards. Probably I should begin to prepare myself mentally and emotionally, but I don’t want to diminish any of the richness of these wonderful moments in the process. My parents have aged pretty well. I don’t expect something bad to happen to them any day now—I save that for the decade of their 80s—but I suppose I have begun to become a bit leery of these years. As my 64-year-old uncle’s surprise heart surgery reminded me last week, something could happen at any time. My Dad had a major heart attack nineteen years ago, so I suppose I have been on borrowed time with him for a while now. Am I just a fool in denial for not expecting the other shoe to fall at any moment? Probably so, but it is not in me to live expecting the worst. I will cling to my unbridled, irrational optimism of long and prosperous years to come, and I will savor every happy, healthy moment of our togetherness. It feels better to me this way.
How about you? How prepared are you for the death of a loved one? Open up your journal, and write yourself to clarity. Have you had a member of your inner circle die? How have you handled death up to this point? Have your coping skills changed as you have aged and moved closer to the front of the line? How does your view of “the afterlife” affect this process for you? After a loved one has passed, does it make the occasion more sad when the rest of your gang gathers together, or do you feel more of an obligation to each other to make each moment together as rich and joyous as possible? Which person’s death in your inner circle are you best equipped to handle, and why? Which one’s passing would devastate you the most? How well do the people you love know how you feel about them? Do you still have things you need to say so that you can live without regret if they died tomorrow? Maybe today is a good day to share. Are you like me, living mostly in denial of the inevitable loss of your loved ones? Is that okay? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are you ready to let go?
Live out loud today,
William