Can You Hear Me Now

Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.

Virginia Woolf

I remember the day my then 80ish-year-old father said, “Everyone I know is dead or dying.” I am many years shy of that age, but I am starting to experience more death than I care for. In the past three weeks, five people in my immediate universe have passed on — two from cancer, one from heart failure, one from a prion infection, and the third took her life. If I expand the timeframe out a little wider, I’ve lost two brothers, my father, my father-in-law, many aunts and uncles, and several friends and acquaintances. While death is certainly a given, I am being touched by far more now than I was in my twenties, thirties, forties, and fifties and I don’t like it.

As I gaze into the immediate future, I recognize that this is only the beginning. My mother is 97 and a half and my mother-in-law is 93. Both are doing well enough today, but it’s anybody’s guess as to what tomorrow will bring. My best friend’s wife has been suffering with COPD for many years and she is the first to admit that she is living on borrowed time. I have several friends and relatives that are well into their 70s and 8os and quite a few are dealing with moderate to serious health concerns. And sometimes death just happens.

I do not want to sound morose, but all of this is sobering. If the active, no-cause-for-concern, 73-year-old aunt of my next door neighbor can unexpectedly die in her sleep, what does that say about the rest of us?

In the Blink of an Eye

For the longest time, I expected to work until I was at least 70. I liked the intellectual stimulation, felt I still had something worthwhile to give to my company and the industry, was comfortable with the routine of a job, and looked forward to a few more years of paychecks to ease the transition into living on a fixed income.

That seemed like a good plan until my brother unexpectedly died early last year. Bob wasn’t in the best health, but no one expected that he wouldn’t wake from an afternoon nap. That is not how I saw my best friend leaving me. There was still so much we planned to do together and all that was snatched away from us in a heartbeat. More accurately, in the lack of a heartbeat.

Suddenly, I started rethinking everything. What do I want from life? What dreams am I ignoring? What do I want to be remembered for? Am I really all that important at work? Is this the best way to spend my time? Am I too old for this and should I be making room for someone younger? What kind of grandfather do I want to be?

As I wrote in It’s Time for a Change, I didn’t jump into retirement. I reduced my working hours and became more particular about what I was putting my time and effort into. Contemplating something totally new is frightening, but over time the need to move on grew and that helped drive away the fear. I kept thinking of Bob and how he wisely chose to retire early and focus his time and energy in new and different ways. If he stuck around at the NSA until he was 70, his retirement would have been measured in months and not years. Did I want the same for me? Despite my reasonably good health, that only counts for so much. There are lots of forces at play and how many push-ups I can do isn’t all that important in the big scheme.

Speaking of Dying

Linda’s cousin holds workshops that help attendees plan for their deaths. Specifically, she assists in the creation of a Five Wishes document. A Five Wishes document lets family and doctors know:

• Who you want to make health care decisions for you when you can’t make them.
• The kind of medical treatment you want or don’t want.
• How comfortable you want to be.
• How you want people to treat you.
• What you want your loved ones to know.
• What your wishes are for a funeral service and/or celebration of life.

Several years ago, I attended one of her workshops and sadly did not walk away with a completed Five Wishes. There are a number of reasons for this, but they all boil down to the fact that I wasn’t ready to discuss dying. I felt that this was for “old” and “sick” people and why should I bother doing something that was decades away.

This was before the passing of my brother Richard at 68 and Bob at 70. I now see how quickly everything can change and what once seemed unlikely can be tragically real.

Despite all that has occurred since failing the workshop and how important planning for one’s death is, I have yet to complete the document. Perhaps this public declaration will spur me on. I can be a stubborn fool, but I have also been known to correct my mistakes. Keep me honest, people.

Click HERE to purchase a Five Wishes form.

Leaving Room for the Unexpected

I did not think I would be writing this blog article. I am not in a depressed mood. In fact, I am quite happy. I am allowing myself to feel sad for the recent five deaths, but it isn’t overwhelming grief. I am finding ways to celebrate their lives, mourn their passing, be there for the families of the bereaved, and strengthen my resolve to make my remaining years productive and worthwhile.

At the same time, I need to leave room for the next unexpected (and sometimes expected) phone call, text, social media post, email, and in-person conversation. Any one of the above can happen today. It could even be a phone call about me. From birth on we are all in the process of dying and none of us knows when our time will arrive. For me, not knowing is an important component of the mystery of life.

Life is as precious as it is fleeting. It may sound trite, but cherish your loved ones. Let them know how you feel about them. Do good in the world. Let go of pettiness and resentments. Find joy wherever and whenever you can. Leave this world knowing you could have done more, but what you did was important. None of this is rocket science, but at times like this I need a little reminding.

Thank you for listening.

As one hand grips another
firm yet tender
or a nut is screwed to its bolt unyielding
here he lies
holding tightly to the scraps of his being
with every ounce of strength and determination
just as he did in life
when the breaths came easier and his body did as requested

Just as he will
wherever death takes him
when she finally comes to call