AND IN THE END

A while back I visited a friend who had terminal cancer. It’s always so hard to find the right words to say. You know and they know, that baring a miracle, life may not go on much longer. That someone whose life was always so carefully planed and lived in such careful order, is now relegated to taking each day as it comes. I have usually been able to sense what’s going on in people’s minds by reading their eyes. The eyes seem to be a virtual porthole into people’s thoughts and if you look deep enough it’s as if you can see into their very souls. It’s there that you see the fear and sadness, determination or resignation but almost always you also see a very tired person. Sometimes you need to work through the tears that can cloud that window, into the mind behind, to get the whole picture but if you look hard, it’s always there.

We have all had friends or family that simply slept away when the end came. Laughing and joking one moment and then whisked away to their just reward as if they had just won a contest. No pain and suffering. No long goodbyes or a litany of last wishes. Just turn off the lights, the party’s over. For many of us that would be our choice wouldn’t it be? But it’s a choice—rich or poor, famous or insignificant-- sadly we don’t get to make. It’s just not our decision to make and in the end death will become the great equalizer amongst all of us. We start our lives with a clean slate and we end it the same way.

One would hope that either way we would be ready for it when it comes and ready for what lies beyond. I sometimes see death as a graduation of sorts and every one knows you can’t graduate unless you’ve done your homework. Unlike in this world however-- there is no written record or file to go to. It’s entirely between you and your creator. The files are sealed and no one else can see them. We all know what the criteria is to get there and one can only hope that we got a passing grade. For those who survive us, how we led our lives will be a glimpse at how we may go on from there but there are no assurances that anyone knows the whole story.

I know this hasn’t been a very happy essay and when I write books I like to always end them well. So many times now, when a loved one passes, we call the time when we all get together to honor them, a celebration of life. I like that idea because funerals just seem too stuffy for me and that isn’t how we want to be remembered? We worked hard in life to achieve what we did and darn it, it’s time someone pays attention to what we accomplished. Otherwise it will all be forgotten and all to often, unless we were good at beating our own drum, many people didn’t know what we did or how we lived anyway. It’s hard to get any recognition in this world now days and it’s a shame that it had to come to this but let’s not squander this last chance to celebrate a great life. Steve Maraboli said, “I don’t want my life to be defined by what is etched in a tombstone. I want it to be defined in what is etched in the lives and hearts of those I touched.” The friend I mentioned at the start of this letter has now passed away. Meer words will not do justice to what he meant to his friends and family. I know I’m richer for having known him and I look forward to seeing him again, on the other side. Rest in Peace my friend.