There is a list of people that I've cared for who I have lost and as I get older the list just keeps getting longer. Sometimes I wish to turn back the hands of time and have those people back. Sometimes I wish I could turn back the hands of time to bring back my naïveté. However, there is some wisdom to be had in learning about, preparing for and in the end accepting death as inevitable. Rather than fear death, accept it as the finish line to a race well run. Which of course means I have to run the race well as long as I'm participating.
Unlike most of my articles I'll keep this one somewhat more brief. Remembering those I lost always makes me sad so why dwell on it? However, there are three I've lost that mean more than others.
It has been over 25 years since she passed. She was old and frail and had poor health for a few years. She didn't have a strong education but had more wisdom that I'll likely ever attain. She taught me about love, about God, making do with what you have, and the power of hard work and perseverance.
Without her I am certain I'd be a very different man today. Her creativity in dealing with poverty during the Great Depression was inspirational. Her tenacity in dealing with heartbreak (lost her husband in WW2) and financial distress (deep debt in the 1960s) taught me to fight. But her love and devotion to God showed me how to be a true Christian.
Losing her hurt a lot, but it was death taking a frail, elderly person.
My father passed away 18 years ago just a few months after my youngest son was born. He was my age when he got sick and four short years later he died. A football player, a chess champion, and the most outgoing and social person I have ever met and a man whose shoes I'll never be able to fill. I saw cancer rob his strength, dim his wit, and steal his joy for life before death came to claim him as well.
Still, remembering him throwing a pony that kicked off my sister remains as a memory of strength. Seeing him sell a single broken snowshoe by telling the most outlandish story reminds me of his wit. Memories of whose legacy I'm carrying on.
Death was getting closer to home.
Just last month death came for the smartest man I've ever had the pleasure of calling friend. A man whose knowledge of space, computers, and electronics always left me stunned. When he removed a hard disk platter to reinstall in another casing to save data for a friend I knew he was skilled. When he wrote custom software to link his computer to a HAM radio, to bounce a signal off the moon to link a remote search and rescue team for communication (albeit only for short window each day) I knew his skill was far beyond anything I'd ever master.
I am one year older than he was. Death has come calling on those next door.
Death has come for people who are wiser, more charming, and more intelligent than I will ever be. It has taken people both older and younger. It comes for everyone. That's something I never thought about when I was younger.
But as I get older it becomes much clearer. I really have two options: I can fear death and fight it. Or I can embrace life and live it.
My wife tries to fight aging and death. She will often come at me with wrinkle cream and asks if I want Botox or perhaps dye for my graying hair. I have to chuckle. Aging and death come to everyone. I want to focus on enjoying however many days I have rather than fighting and fearing the end.
In the end I remember the poem "The Dash" at my father's funeral. It had the year he was born and the year he died with a dash in between. 1944 - 2005. It's not the dates that matter but the dash in between. So, even if I'm not as wise as my grandmother, as vibrant as my father, or as smart as my friend, I will always do my best to.....
