Some Thoughts on Dying

Dying isn't a popular topic in blogs I read - and understandably so. Most of us don't like to talk about death, though we may think about it from time to time, especially if we follow the news.

(So if you decide that today's posting isn't for you, I completely understand!)

This past week, I have been thinking about death a little more than usual. A week ago I received a phone call informing me that the 50-something-year-old husband of a cousin had died in an accident. A day or two later, we received an email telling us that the mother of a close friend - in her 80s - was dying. She had been like a second-mother to Terry, and she wanted him to have a part in her funeral.

Thinking of her lying there, knowing her days were numbered, made me reflect on how my father died - suddenly - in the midst of a busy life. At 85, he had gone back to Poland to visit the village where he had lived as a child. There, standing in the cemetery where so many of his relatives were buried, he was ecstatic to be back.

This is where it all began, he told my mother, then added. If I die right now, bury me here where my life began.

Nobody suspected that within a week he would die from bacterial meningitis, and indeed be buried in Europe, where his relatives lived.

I also think of the gentle death of another relative - a woman in her 80s who had returned in her mind to her teenage years. Her life was happy. Her daughter visited her daily, doing her hair and make-up. She still looked lovely. One day at tea-time in the lounge, she put down her tea cup and closed her eyes. Everyone thought she had fallen asleep...

Or the priest here in town, who served communion, sat down in his chair ... and closed his eyes...

There is something beautiful about living a long life to the fullest until the very end end, ... keeping busy until that moment comes...

But that also means being prepared - by being at peace with all, especially those we love. And by striving to make all parting words kind words - in case they are the words we are remembered by...