|
"We can be heroes. Just for one day"
-David Bowie
I’ve had a fairly ridiculous amount of people I know die or come damn close to it in my forty year lifespan. Surely nothing rivaling the soldier at war or the police officer, EMT, doctor et al. who may have to bury colleagues and neighbors alike, but there have been too many younger than me, and too many I never got to see soon enough before it happened.
I just returned from seeing my ninety seven year old paternal grandmother, who I ashamedly haven’t seen since my wedding ten years ago due to distance, time and finances. She’s been in ill health for some time and severe dementia has begun to set in, but the woman is simply an iron horse who keeps snapping back as much as she can and usually more than expected. She took a worse turn in recent months and my mother and I decided we needed to see her as soon as possible. It may be the last time I see her, I know that, but that’s for higher powers than me or man to decide at this point.
I was warned that she probably wouldn’t know me, can’t see well and talks in nonsensical phrases at times. Not a shock; not the point. I can now say with certainty that she at least she knew I was there and I got to see my gram smile at me again and tell me I was “cute” (which she calls pretty much every male she sees these days. Especially the orderlies I’m told) and I got to sit and have lunch with her, my uncle and my father.
Did she know me? I’m not sure. I thought it would matter to me, but it didn’t. I thought I would be hugely depressed seeing her so frail, a woman who was once so fiery and alive, and who is probably responsible for my portly physique because she would never let a grandchild visit without making them eat until they begged her to stop.
Instead I felt great. I felt I helped her come back to the world, her family, for just a short hour. I really think the new input of my mom and I energized her in some way and hopefully brought some form of closure for all of our souls. I promised I would see her again when I kissed her goodbye; Gods willing I can keep that vow.
Forgive me for so much exposition to get to my main purpose in this essay, but it was necessary to remind us how rare these potentially last meetings are, and how healing and special they can actually be. On with the show.
The visit got me thinking deeply on the trip home about all the other people who I never had the luxury of the nebulous warnings “old age” gives us about death.
There was our friend “T” who lost touch with our circle and committed suicide over a decade ago.
There was “K” who was one of my best friends at one of my first jobs who died of a heart attack at the age of 26.
There was “M” who was a platonic room mate and close friend of mine in college who with the help of alcohol died of liver failure at 26. I found out about “M” at a concert where I bumped into another friend from college.
There was “T” who battled with heroin addiction and eventually lost his life to it.
There was “T” who was one of the biggest fans of my radio show and a great guy to hang out with who died in his sleep.
And there was “G” who was a legend in local radio I had the honor to work with and befriend who died two days after me and another friend discussed making a point to go see him because we knew he was sick.
And there were so many, many more. Aside from “G” there has been very little warning for the losses of people in my life and this is true for most of us I suspect. The point is that even the horrifyingly unexpected ones; the accidents, the suicides, the war deaths, the sudden illnesses and the murders. Should compel us to stay in better touch with the people we once cared about, and still do, even if they have drifted from our lives. I don’t think it pretentious to assume that in the case of the suicides or overdoses that perhaps more mundane contact from friends might help prevent such tragedies. As such things are almost always done from the loneliest of places of the human heart.
Just go see them. Just make that call or email or note by carrier pigeon, whatever it takes to see that last smile. To make that last connection that is uniquely human that says, you meant something to me. You were an important person and deserved to be told so, and my life has been richer for knowing you.
Friends, family, old co-workers, teachers you respected. Just go see them. Nothing in our busy world is more important than the relationships we have, and how we cultivate them says as much about our personal character as it does about the state of humanity.
Stop waiting around simply to respect someone in death. Go see them. Make that connection as if it may be the last chance for a dance. Take whatever this fleeting existence will give you, and with it, celebrate life.
-S
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
