At Death’s Door

I looked in the car mirror, tightened my tie and took a deep breath. Once my my wife and I were ready, we got out of the car and started walking to get in line for the viewing. The wife of a friend had passed away and we wanted to show our respect. We recognized a few people in line at the funeral home, but most of the faces were new to us.

We didn’t know the woman well, but we knew her well enough to stop and say hello after church and ask about her family. Most of the years that we ran into each other, we had young kids under foot, while her kids were grown and were having kids of their own. We were at different stages in our lives, but she always had a smile and an encouraging word.

One particularly challenging day, I remember we walked out of church frustrated with how our three kids had acted up during the service. I won’t say they were acting like The Three Stooges, but they would’ve given Larry, Moe, and Curly a run for their money. When she asked what was the matter and a look of exasperation shot across my face, she told us she thought our kids were precious angels. Oh, she was lying through her teeth, but it was just what my wife and I needed to hear. It made us laugh and reminded us that there’s more important things in life than kids sitting stone-faced in church.

Searching for the right words

When we got to the front of the viewing line, we hugged her husband and offered our sympathies. We didn’t really know what to say, but our friend joked that words weren’t important, it was just good that friends came out to support him. He joked about the weather and how his wife would have been amused to see all the people coming out to her funeral. We chit chatted some more and then moved on so that he could continue to greet the rest of the crowd.

Like most people, I hate to think about death. When we go to a viewing or funeral, I’m usually at a loss for words. I’m never sure if I should try to offer a few soothing words or just be quiet. I always think it’s strange the funny ways we describe death:

• Meeting your maker
• Seeing The Grim Reaper
• Kicking the bucket
• Pushing up daisies
• Buying the farm
• Sleeping with the fishes

No matter the words, it’s a scary thing. We see someone else’s death and we start to think about our own, what we’ll miss, what we’ll leave behind. We may even start to question what’s to come.

Learning from life’s toughest moments

I get it that death is the big unknown, but I’ve noticed that when I peek over the fence at life’s closing moments for friends, family and even people I don’t know, I learn a lot about myself and how to actually live a happy life.

Yes, it’s kind of a paradox, the more we focus on death, the more we learn about the living. For example, here’s three personal experiences.

–Too young to understand. When an uncle died when I was very young, maybe four or five, I remember the tears coming uncontrollably down my face. I understood very little of what was happening, but I remember being shocked to see my father and everyone else around me so sad. I wasn’t sure how to process what I was seeing. When we were at the funeral home, I broke out in tears and I couldn’t stop crying. Fortunately, one of my older cousins pulled me aside. He didn’t make fun of me. He didn’t lecture me to get it together. He simply talked with me and told me that it was okay to cry. I’ve long considered his advice and kindness to be an amazing gift.

–You have a choice. When my father died decades later, I felt numb. I knew it might come, but it still caught me by surprise. Strangely enough, the more I looked at his casket and then at my young kids, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to live my life. I wanted my work to matter, I wanted to make a difference, but I wanted my role as a father to matter more. I drove home from the funeral determined to make changes in my life to be a better person. Those changes haven’t always been easy, but, for the most part, I’ve been able to follow through with them and be there when my family has needed me.

–Making sense of life’s unknowns. Finally, I was touched ten years ago reading about a young United States Marine who had died participating in a routine training exercise. I questioned out loud the craziness of our world and why someone so full of life would perish so young. My own son wasn’t in the Armed Services yet, but he told me that it was sad, but maybe the Marine was doing what he loved doing best, and that was a good thing. I found his words to be incredibly soothing and astute. I was amazed that out of the mouth of babes could come such wise words.

Yes, death is scary and I have many questions for God, if I ever get introduced to him face-to-face, but I also know that the more I learn about death and put it into perspective, the more it shows me the kind of person I want to be and the life I want to live.