Yesterday was not a great day -and while the initial shock of the news from Mayo, was overwhelming, I had time to be quiet and think last night. The truth is, we all have to go - as do all those people we love.
I worked in a little ER for a couple of years. I loved the work, though my boss was Satan in heels. I had the priveledge of holding people's hands , way more than once, as they drew their last breath. For most of them, there was a moment of absolute clarity, then a peaceful sigh as their last breath left the chest. There is an energy, as well. Theoretically, energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed in form. I have always thought that energy release was the soul, headed to wherever that particular soul was headed to. It always seemed that in that final moment, there was proof that people were "headed" somewhere - the smile, the peace that came over them - you just don't get a look like that when you are headed into eternal darkness.
What came to me last night was the difference in the families. Sometimes, there were accidents - and the families never got to say good bye, the person didn't get to finish up whatever he or she would have wanted to finish up - things were just left hanging. The families had this sense of devastation and chaos, and there were questions left unanswered. Then there were folks who had been sick, especially those with cancer and heart ailments. They had an idea of how much time was left, and though death was not always painless, there was a certain peace in knowing they had done what they could in finishing things. There families were ready - well, as ready as you can be - and they were sad, but also at peace, knowing it was the person's time to go.
Mom and I debated this last weekend. I always thought my preference would be like hers, a stroke - nice and quick and tidy. But my opinion has shifted. I think having time to finish things might be better. While I am not thrilled about the prospect of losing either of my folks, I know it happens. And there is a blessing in having time together to say things that need to be said, and to make sure that things will be taken care of after they are gone. Funny, my folks have always been big on not doing things "half-assed" so to speak - meaning completing the work you are doing. In classic fashion, my dad is doing exactly that - finishing up before he goes. I wouldn't expect anything less.
There is a line from Stay, one of Josh's favorite movies, "There's too much Beauty to Quit". So this morning, I brushed myself off and started again - because quitting isn't in our vocabulary.
1 comment:
I like your thinking. A friend of ours died in his fifties; he went with dignity and grace. He accepted "what is" and appreciated "what was." I will find it very difficult to be half the man that he was.
I have thought about it and really feel that for almost all of us, our lives feel of similar length. Whether we live to be forty or one hundred, we all live a 100% of our time.
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