Lessons in Living and Dying

 

Sometimes life takes us to some very unexpected places. Recently I found myself on a plane headed to Las Vegas. A place where I ‘ve been many times over the years, but on this occasion, I was on unanticipated and dreaded voyage. I had been taxed with making end of life preparations for a family member who is terminally ill. My uncle who left his tiny hometown 50 years ago and never looked back was now alone in a hospital, dying.

Growing up I had always admired his fearlessness in following his dreams. He left high school and went straight into the Marines. When he returned from service, he attended Hotel Management School in Washington D.C. And upon graduation, he went on to work at a major hotel and casino in Las Vegas until his retirement twelve years ago.

On the surface, his life was to be envied. As a child, I was spurred by his independence and wherewithal to make a life in a big city without having to rely on anyone. But now I see how this existence was a double-edged sword. The life I once admired was not all it was cracked up to be. A half century of working and being away gradually gave way to void and isolation. Over time he grew to disregard the importance of family and severed that bond that binds most people related by blood. Time and distance would eventually erase any link he had to his past. And now he lied in a hospital bed with no connection to family in either body or spirit.

Difficult circumstances like death and dying often have a way of helping us discover our strengths that had not been unveiled to us yet. In caring for the sick, we find the capacity to replace our fears with compassion. We muster up the might to help those who are now helpless. We do what needs to be done. Without thinking or reacting. We watch, listen, and we understand things more intently.

In doing so I began to compare my own recollections with his historical narrative. I was reminded how our simplistic childhood memories are often made up of way more than what they taste, feel, and smell like. Many things we believe to be factual turn out to be just snippets of what we had conjured up in our young minds. But if there is one thing that life repeatedly teaches us, is that there are always more complexities of a story than the bits and pieces that we chose to recall. And if we listen closely enough to their final testaments, we can usually fill in many of the missing pieces. Especially the least idyllic and dismal parts we were unable to comprehend or never told as children. My uncle gave testimony of his life story in his final days. And I learned many things that I never knew and many things I wish I were still oblivious to.

But in the end the lessons in death for both the living and dying are inescapable. The awareness that life is fragile, and often comes to an end before we want it to or before we feel ready. We have not made amends, we have regrets, we put things off, and now there is no more time. The reality is simple, the only guarantee we ever have is now. So, for the dying this inevitably leads to remorse. As for the living, we vow to do things now so that we avoid having regrets later. But unfortunately, once the immenseness of our bereavement subsides, often so does our determination and will to right our wrongs. That is until the next loss and then the cyclical lesson inevitably repeats itself.

The tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we are still living. My uncle’s life was a testament to a life of great losses. I hope he is now at peace and on his way home.  

  RIP Unc, I left a trail of breadcrumbs for you.