Can You Hear Me Now

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

Edgar Allan Poe

Last Wednesday, my church hosted a death cafe. For the uninformed, a death cafe is a gathering of people who want to talk about death. There is also cake and tea, but as important as they are, it’s mainly an evening of unstructured discussion where the participants can say whatever it is they want to say about death, dying, and what comes next. There are no pre-set questions, prompts, right or wrong answers. It’s simply an outlet to share one’s thoughts on a topic we rarely talk about.

Fun fact. For a topic people rarely talk about, it occurred to me that I’ve done the opposite in this blog. A quick scan finds six articles about people I know who have passed away or death in general. The latest, On Death and Loss, was written as part of my Coming of Age questions and was posted just a few months ago. I will take it as a good sign that I am not shying away from this important, yet sometimes painful topic.

For this death cafe, about 24 people showed up and we split ourselves into tables of six. Linda and I were both there and we willingly chose to sit at different tables. This allowed us to speak freely without worrying about what the other might think — an approach I highly recommend.

Here are a few of the thoughts that came up on my table.

Staying Close

With the exception of one tablemate, we were all well past sixty years old and sadly death has become a pretty substantial aspect of our lives. It certainly has for me. Within the last ten or so years, I have lost Mom, Dad, two brothers, my father-in-law, and far too many friends, relatives, and acquaintances in my extended circle of connections.

Some of these death experiences have been routine (for the lack of a better word), while others have been life changing. This was certainly the case with the loss of my brother, Bob. He was my best friend and although after three years much of the pain has subsided, overwhelming grief can still sneak up on me in unexpected ways.

It was also the case of a woman at my table whose son took his life a number of years ago. To keep him close by, she regularly carries a small vial of his ashes with her.

Far from sounding morbid, I understood her need to feel his presence. I do not carry ashes with me, but I still have the phone numbers of Bob and Mom in the favorites list on my iPhone. Even though I know I will never call either number again, I cannot bring myself to delete them. At least not yet.

Caught in the current
afloat and buoyant
a quickening pace
from headwater to gulf

See the shoreline
hastening past
feel the tug of a million liquid fingers

This is the promise
and this is the journey
close your eyes
and sink into the deep

Lost Stories

After the deaths of my mother, father, and two brothers, I was struck by the fact that I have become the owner of so many of our family’s stories. I have younger siblings, but there is much that occurred before they came along — and much they don’t care to know.

Before Bob’s death, we always had each other to question or clarify a memory. We knew things that the other did not, and our combined experiences offered unique perspectives to our shared memories.

Suddenly, it’s just me and I cannot begin to say how often I have questioned a memory — who said what, who did what, and when exactly did it happen? I long for someone to help me understand and there is no one to turn to.

While I certainly miss the people who no longer walk the world with me, I miss our ability to try and make sense of the past. It’s now only me and I am not enough to complete the stories and fill in the gaps.

Ghosts of ghosts
these mind shadows ever elusive and fleeting
I am chasing a darkness that slips into the night

A once familiar face now completely faded
a vision
a thought
forgotten in the ether of endless space

Ghosts and specters
wraiths without mass or shape

These words lost
gone forever with morning’s light

What Comes Next

As Unitarians, we don’t have the comfort of a defined afterlife. We all have our own ideas of what comes next, but for the most part it’s a hazy view through the fog at something we can’t quite see. No one is standing at the pulpit speaking about a paradise beyond the clouds and what we need to do to get there.

Personally, I have no clue as to where I (or what I presume to be me) will end up. Do I long for some surety that my consciousness will continue on? Sometimes, but that’s not where my head is at. The best I can wish for today is that my atoms will disperse and find their way into everything from the dirt under our feet to the wings of a bat.

Actually, I do have another wish. If a celebration of life is held on my behalf, I would love for the final song of the gathering to be Elmer Bernstein’s The Theme for the Magnificent Seven. It may just be the most moving piece of music that has ever crossed my ears and it would make the dead me happy to have it played in my honor.

However faint and distant
however far your light must come
to cast dimly upon my face

I, forever gazing into the heavens
in awe and wonder

I, open eyed marvel to the dim memory of a star
that posthumously pays visit
to this ephemeral soul tonight

The Myth of Forever

To be born is to be placed on the road to death. In the big scheme of the universe, my life is less than a blip on a blip. I would like to feel that something of me is worth remembering, but the chances are that within a generation or two, I will be little more than a name on a family tree. After all, how much do I know about my great grandparents? Nothing, and I cannot claim to have done anything that will have a lasting impact on the world.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. George Eliot

Honestly, that neither concerns nor scares me. I am not the kind of guy who craves immortality. I am here today and spend most of my days trying to do the next right thing. If I can keep that up until the day I die, it will be a good death and that’s all that matters to me right now.

Your turn. What are your thoughts on death? Are you willing to sit down with others to discuss them over cake and tea? If not, what will it take to get you there? Keep in mind that death is always around the corner and that corner can sometimes appear at a very unexpected time.

Thank you for reading.

When day draws to a close
ever so sweetly
as shadows sing their lullabies to the sun

When hearts find new focus
and thoughts turn from ambition and drive
to muse and reflection

One becomes two
and two becomes shimmering
sparkling
shining