The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
After a break for the holidays, I am back to my Coming of Age journey. So much has happened since the pause. Most importantly, ICE began their assault on Minnesota and the sense of dread they brought is palpable. Thankfully, having addressed the first several questions of the Coming of Age process, I am able to look at this horror from a more grounded space. This does not mean that the terror of this onslaught is not ever present. It’s simply that I have strength I can summon to help find balance, solace, and the will to fight.
In case you missed the previous installments, they can be found here.
On the Nature of a Higher Power
This latest step asks each pilgrim to answer this question:
How do we live in the face of death and loss?
Springing from that overarching question, there are a series of sub-questions. Each one has been designed to push us deeper into an awareness of how death and loss have affected our personal lives and how we see them in a larger sense. The goal is to approach the question from the standpoints of within, among, and beyond.
How Does Mortality Impact How we Live?
It’s pretty simple. We are all going to die. As obvious as this might sound, I have not always lived my life with that awareness. I wasted too much time on not being the person I wanted to be — not being the person I knew I was called to be. Whether it was due to laziness or allowing my character defects to take control, I have found myself in a place where I wish I could roll back time and redo much of my past — better father, better husband, better friend, better community member, better me.
Now, a lot older and a tad wiser, I comprehend more clearly my personal shelf life. This may be my only at-bat. I cannot undo the mistakes of the past, but I can make honest amends while striving to live a life of greater integrity (the so-called living amend). Knowing that I have far fewer years ahead of me than the ones I squandered, my mortality acts as the prod to do and be better.
This would not be the case if I lived forever. Why bother to make changes today when I can easily set them aside without fear of any penalty? What’s the difference between starting now or 100 years from now?
Knowing that I will die forces me to deal with who I am today and make changes before the opportunity is forever gone.
Simply put, in order to truly live, I need to die. Better yet, I need to know that I will die and that death will come a lot sooner than I expect.
What Happens When we Die?
I know many people who are absolutely sure of what happens after we die, but I am not one of them. I am not a heaven, hell, or purgatory kind of guy. I appreciate their conviction, but it just doesn’t work for me.
The only answer I can be sure of is that the atoms that make up my physical being will scatter. It makes no difference if I am cremated or break down into garden compost, whatever I used to be physically will find its way into into the world. I could end up being tree bark or an Irish banjo. I would prefer to not end up as dog poop, but that’s beyond my control.
From the cry of the newborn driven from the womb
to the final breaths of the dying
shallow and labored
we arrive as we leave
in turmoil, confusion, and upheaval
Facing unknowns
while surrounded by love
As for my spirit, I have even less of an idea of where that goes. I did have a recent, and somewhat profound experience of me reaching out to my deceased brother (you can read all about it here), but two fish do not make for real understanding. The experience is not something I discount, but for now it’s more mystery than anything concrete.
And honestly, I am still unsure as to what my spirit actually is. I feel it, but I do not comprehend it. Does it live on after I die? Is it simply a creation of my brainwaves that disappears once the heart stops beating and the gray matter stops doing its neutron firing thing? This too is a mystery I must live with.
How do our Beliefs About What Happens When we Die Impact How we Live?
Not knowing where I will end up reinforces the notion that if this life is all I am given, I had better get it right before my clock runs out. At least, right enough. It would be comforting if I believed in the Ground Hog Day approach of rebirth and reincarnation until I reached my potential, but as much as I would like that, it’s just not there for me.
The only rebirth I know of is the one created by taking responsibility for my actions, making amends for my mistakes, and trying to do the next right thing. Rebirth is a choice I get to make every moment of my life. I don’t always succeed, but I am working on it.
How do we Live With and Handle Grief?
We learn. We laugh. We cry. We are brought to our knees. We remember. We get angry. We do stupid things. We change.
My two older brothers, Richard and Bob, have been gone for several years now, but they are never far from my mind. There are moments when I simply sit with the discomfort of their passing and there are many more when I smile at who they were and how they contributed to my life. Time has allowed me to see them in ways not previously possible. Their gifts and their wounds have become more clear to me.
They are gone and yet they are still here with me. It will never be the same as speaking to either one and having them speak back, but I still feel both in my thoughts and actions. I have learned to accept that this is how it will be from now on. Losing them was certainly not my first choice, but their deaths were never mine to choose.
In life, loss is inevitable. Everyone knows this, yet in the core of most people it remains deeply denied – ‘This should not happen to me.’ It is for this reason that loss is the most difficult challenge one has to face as a human being. Dayananda Saraswati
I live with grief by letting it take the path it needs to take. I will hurt and I will laugh. I will feel loss so strongly that I might not know the way out, but the way will always find me.
With breaths short and shallow
eyes that can barely see
with a heart scarcely beating
These tiny steps at the end of the journey
carry us home to a well earned rest
Grief is another way of embracing life. I am alive because I am able to feel joy and pain. Each can be overwhelming in their own manner, but neither one ever stays in one place for too long. Of all that I know about death, I know that best of all.
What do You Hope Happens When You Die?
This is my favorite question of the bunch. I love speculating on what could be if I were king of the forest.
After the death of my brother, Bob, I sat with my mom and discussed both him and my brother, Richard. Mom was a devout Catholic and she said to me, “My two sons are together again forever.”
Rather than feeling the peace that Mom felt, I found the notion to be rather jarring. While I would love to spend more time with Richard and Bob, the thought of being stuck with every dead person I ever knew is not comforting. There are quite a few people I would be happy to never see again. Even alive, I needed to step away from my brothers (and they from me).
So, what do I want?
First, I would like to be remembered as a decent human being who despite his flaws, did the best he could. I don’t need any kind of fame. I simply want people to think of me kindly — laugh at my goofy aspects and be thankful for any good I may have done.
In my perfect post-life existence, I see myself as more ethereal than physical. I want to be a force that exists within and beyond the universe as I know it today. While I don’t have an issue with checking back in on earth from time to time, I don’t want to be limited to what I comprehend here today. There is so much more out there and I want to be a part of it. I have been to New Jersey and I don’t need to go there again.
Beyond that, I can’t quite say. Would this next phase be eternal or will it have its own cycle of rebirth to death? I prefer the latter, but if I had an entire universe in front of me, that might be enough to keep me occupied for a while.
Here for Now
Like all meaningful questions, this one has no one-and-done answer. I put in my time for this article, but it still feels inadequate and unanswered. As I grow, I will change and my outlook on death and loss will also change. New experiences will lead me down unforeseen paths of exploration. For now, though, I need to set this pan on the burner and allow it to simmer. The spices are still far too harsh and the flavors need to mellow.
We were too greedy, grasping for immortality too soon. Perhaps if we had only been patient, content to wait, we would all have forever in the end. Jessica Khoury
As always, thank you for being here with me as I contemplate these questions. My next Coming of Age installment, whenever that shows up, will be “How is the sacred present in each of us?” Please stick around for more fun and games.
Thank you for reading.
As one hand grips another
firm yet tender
or a nut screwed to its bolt unyielding
here he lies
holding tight 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
Can You Hear Me Now 
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