On Death

I just found out my neighbor's husband passed away Tuesday night. There are days when I wonder why a load of hard things are dumped on one person all at once. This is one of those times. I mean, my neighbor finds out she has cancer, then her husband, who's been in poor health for ages now, goes into the hospital right when she has her first chemo appointment. That's bad enough. But then he dies and she has to go through losing a spouse on top of going through cancer? And at Christmas time? 

I want to ask Heavenly Father how much mortality a person can face in the space of a month. But I think I know the answer, and it's going to have a lot to do with faith. So yes, I'm going to get religious here. But my religion is how I understand things like death. And life too, for that matter. 

Heavenly Father knew when and how Jesus would die even before he was born. And Jesus did, too. I wonder if that made life harder or easier. On the one hand, you'd know you had only a certain amount of time to accomplish something really important. I would think you'd spend less time on the internet (note to myself on that one) and more time with people. But on the other hand, you might spend your life depressed, thinking about how much you'll miss everyone and everything, wondering how much death will hurt and if you could possibly change God's mind and convince him to give you a few more years. Jesus Christ chose to get to work. As far as I know, he didn't succumb to self-pity or debilitating sadness. Instead, as we all know, he lived and died for the benefit of others. 

I suppose that we also reach a point when we realize that we are not going to be here forever. As we are born, so shall we die--that type of thing. Only, most of us don't know exactly when or how it's going to happen. Sometimes we don't even know if we're on board with the plan of leaving everyone behind and going forward to a place we've never seen, a place we only hope exists. But regardless of how we feel about it and how much we do to prevent it, our bodies will give out eventually. But what of our spirits? I do not share in the belief that you live and then you die, and that's the end of the story. Death was not the end of Jesus' story. And it's not the end of ours either.   

And yet, I wonder about the particulars of death. When you stand on the edge of mortality, do you look into darkness or into light? I think it must be light. Maybe for an instant, it will feel like someone switched off a lamp--but just for a second--and when they turn it on again, the room is bright and warm and so full of love you feel like you can touch that love, and breathe it too. The after-life is not scary--at least not to the person passing through this place on the way to another. Quite the contrary. It's like coming in from playing in the snow to find that your mother is there with your favorite blanket, a big cup of hot chocolate and a hug. In all of my pondering, this is what I've come up with: when we grieve the loss of a friend or family member, we mourn for ourselves as well. We mourn with memories of the person we loved, and we mourn for a future without them. But for all we know, they sit next to us, silent and invisible, yet present in our hearts.

So when I think of what my neighbor has lost in the last little while and wonder at the justice of it, I remember what she said when I saw her yesterday. "My husband was in so much pain," she said. "And now he's not." I imagine her husband's relief at finding himself with a healthy spirit, awash in all that light, surrounded by people he knows and loves who arrived before him. Then again, maybe he's sitting on the porch watching the blue birds in the pine trees, watching over his wife. And waiting.

     

Comments

[chizuko]

It is sad story. I think that you are chosen as god's hands to help her, listen her and extend your arms around her.
just sit next to her, listen her are big consoration. Hope that you are ok. I'll call you sometime soon.

[Dana]

Powerful insight, Susan. I certainly don't understand too much about death, but I have been with many family members when they died or were near death. I have to tell you that it was always a sacred experience. Read my account in my life stories about the death of my mother. I am no longer afraid of death because of the experience surrounding the passing of my mother. Those who go on before us are near us more than we think and they give us hope, strength and support. Your neighbor is certainly experiencing more than her share of sorrow, and I am sure she will be grateful for your friendship during the months to come. You are such a good person!

[Hillary]

This was beautiful. I love how you compare dying to coming in from playing in the snow. As I have sat with loved ones in their final days I believe it is peaceful for them. Thank you for sharing this.

[Sue Mertlich]

Susan, what a beautiful message for all of us to ponder and receive comfort from/ Thank you fo sharing your thoughts and your love and kindness.

[Katie]

Beautiful, Susan.

[LauraB.]

Oh Susan, I am so sorry to hear of your neighbor's passing. I don't quite know what to say, I'm in shock just thinking of the hardship this family has gone through and what is still to come. Again, I feel blessed to have the problems I have.