LIFE + DEATH

One Foot Over the Grave

Staying in an old-age home was a reminder of life and a wonderful window into my future

“It is a bit embarrassing to have been concerned with the human problem all one’s life and find at the end that one has no more to offer by way of advice than ‘try to be a little kinder.’” — Aldous Huxley

There is clarity in death.

Through pain and loss, we see the world through a unique lens, one that crystalizes priorities.

I experienced this with the death of my brother. Except for the welfare of my immediate family, there was nothing more important during his last few months than just being with him.

I could discard life’s insignificant distractions. My To-do list was nothing more than a handful of reminders of what was most important to me. Life offers us reminders and sign posts of what we need to be focusing on.

But as time gives us distance from the tragedy, we are lulled back into the daily distractions of life.

Priorities get pushed down the list, sandwiched between meeting with someone you’ve never met and buying new shoes on Amazon.

If only we could hold this clarity in our lives at all times.

Room 442

I was walking down the hallway of the residential community where my mom now lives.

I have been staying with her for the past eight weeks. The community is composed of eighty people who are on average in their mid-eighties. It is a collective wisdom of over 6,000 years.

The discussions are not about careers, promotions, college admissions, and carrying a few extra pounds. Their world revolves around family and closest friends. They need and crave community as much as food and shelter. Politics are discussed but conversations quickly return to health, past/present partners, family, and grandchildren.

While their memory has faded, there is no question as to what they deem important.

As I walked down the hall, I passed room 442 where a resident had lived. Her name tag had been removed from the door as she recently passed away. Since my arrival, three people have died. I attended the service of one of them.

There is no mystery to anyone that they are closer to death than others. They don’t wallow in their misery. They play cards, watch movies, enjoy meals together, attend musicals and theater, hold book clubs, and take walks. They fill their time, reminisce about their younger days.

Their bodies are older, minds a bit slower. Maybe this is the universe offering them a gift to examine their lives. Perhaps it is a reminder to younger generations to embrace those things that are important to them instead of getting wrapped up in the rat race of life.

Maybe it is just life. One day we will all be in room 442.

Cats and Bottles

As I left the building to meet a friend, I was contemplating my life.

It is impossible not to reflect on the community around me. All have slowed physically, some struggle with walkers and canes. It is easy to say to myself, I am glad that isn’t me. But in my heart, I know it is me. Not now but in a few years.

It is all of us.

Try as we might, we cannot push aging and death away.

Nor should we. It is the natural cycle of life whether we like it or not. So we might as well embrace it. We shouldn’t be afraid of death. We should accept and welcome it.

But this clarity I have as I walk through the hallways too quickly dissipates as I step out into the busy, distracted world.

Like my brother’s death, being in this community offers a glimpse into my future. But I still struggle with it. I don’t want to leave my wife and children. I still want to swim in the oceans and stroll in the forests.

But we too often don’t appreciate our priorities until much later in life. As we come closer to the end, we shed the insignificant aspects of our lives that held us back.

As I drove to meet my friend, Time in a Bottle came over my playlist. The universe was offering me a reminder. Then it played Cats in the Cradle. I smiled. The universe wasn’t reminding me, it was telling me what was important.

Carpe diem. Live in the moment. Seize the day. Smell the roses. Be present. Live in the now.

How can we shift our consciousness to be present in life as if we are in the last few years? Why do we need to wait until tragedy or old age to always be in a state of appreciation?

I am in my future.

Every one of the octogenarians I eat with, converse, watch movies, play games, and laugh with, is me. I am surrounded by a multitude of selves.

I can momentarily convince myself that I am immortal. The thoughts are fleeting.

I am not sad or depressed with the community around me. They have led long lives. They have rich stories. They have lived.

It struck me that I was on the precipice of death.

Not in a morbid way. I have a window into the final stages of life. I am witnessing people who are in the winter of their lives. Their foot is hovering over the grave. It is inevitable, it will come soon. But they aren’t there yet.

And I am not that far behind. No, I am not old but I am not young. I have a long time and I don’t. Plenty of time. Little time.

And like the other seasons, winter has its beauty. Winter has no distractions as the snow blankets the landscape and the leaves fall from the tree. In winter, we are only left with ourselves to contemplate our existence.

And that is not a bad thing.

Smile.

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