On Death and Dying

 On Halloween of 2017 I was driving on Hwy 151 between Waupun and Fond du Lac, on my way to take my son trick-or-treating. My grandmother, Kate the Great (as she was called), was buried there in the Rock River Cemetery only a couple months earlier. My son and I had been at her house with my grandfather and aunt Louisa just before that, getting our faces painted by a friend. It was hard to go there, to see my grandpa looking so lost and uncertain without my grandma by his side. And it was hard for us...hard to think that she would never be there to see another moment of our lives. I was closer to my grandmother than I had been to any of my other relatives. And she adored my son, always showed him the same unconditional love she had shown everyone she knew during her 84 years on this earth. The holes in our hearts that were created by her swift and unexpected departure ached with undeniable urgency that day. But, as we approached the cemetery, a beautiful bald eagle swooped past our windshield right ahead of us, and flew into the cemetery trees. I smiled as a tear rolled down my cheek and my son exclaimed, "Mom! Did you see that eagle!?! It went by Great Grandma!" "Yes, I saw it. She sent it because she doesn't want us to be sad," I told him. And in my heart, I believed that. The weight of my sorrow lifted, and we enjoyed our day walking the Fondy streets on a mission to fill our bags with candy.

It has been a little over three years since we saw the bald eagle by my grandmother's grave, and just a few days ago, another eagle appeared while I was driving. I was crossing the Ohio Street bridge in Oshkosh near my house and this eagle, a huge, majestic golden eagle, soared just above and in front of me as I drove to the other side of the river. I don't think I had ever seen a golden eagle in the wild before that moment, but thanks to the knowledge of birds imparted to me in my childhood by my dad and my grandfather, I knew exactly what that beautiful bird was. My grandfather had been put in hospice care the day before that. He had become too weak to stand and walk on his own, so it was time for round the clock care. That was only six days ago...and today I was told that it was time to visit him for the last time. It was time to say goodbye.

My grandfather is one of the most resilient, devoted, and purposeful men I have ever known, or will ever know. He is a man of few words, but when he speaks it is certainly worth listening. Last year I completed a family history project for a class of mine, and the stories he told me are treasures I have archived in my memory, never to be forgotten. My grandfather showed me the importance of perseverance and hard work. He showed me that there is hope and a reason to hold on and push forward even when all the odds are stacked against you. And he taught me the importance of forgiveness. I let my grandfather down many times in my life, and he carried bitterness in his heart toward me for years before my grandmother passed. But after she was gone, he sat me down, expressed his feelings, and told me that he forgave me. He said that my grandmother was the most benevolent person he had ever known, and that in order to honor her memory, he must follow her example and forgive. Where there is bitterness, love cannot endure. And so my grandfather chose love.

I did my best to visit him as often as I could over the past 3 years, even though my schedule was hectic. I took my son there with me often, because it is important that children absorb some of the wisdom of their elders while they have that chance. My grandfather and my son shared a special bond because of their love of baseball, and I am so grateful that I was able to take my grandfather to one of my son's games this past summer. I am also grateful for the time we shared together while my aunt took a week's vacation and I filled in as his caretaker. Those recent memories are ones I will cherish forever.

Tonight when I went to see him, he was not the strong, prudent man I grew up knowing and loving. He was frail and childlike, and although he spoke quite a bit, the thoughts he was expressing were fragmented. I am not sure he knew who I was, but he seemed to find some comfort in my presence. Before I left, I told him thank you for all of the things he did for me and taught me over the years, and for all the sacrifices he made to help me when my life was a mess. I apologized to him for all of the times I disappointed him. Then I stood up, gave him a gentle hug and a kiss on the forehead through my mask, and said, "I love you, grandpa." He looked up at me with the bright blue eyes I inherited from him and said, "I love you too." It was the most coherent and articulate thing he said while I was there, and if he leaves this world within the next few days, I will be consoled by the fact that those were his last words to me.

People often say that death is a part of life, but there is truly no comfort in that statement when you are watching someone you love fade away. I saw it with my godfather in June of 2020, and again with my aunt just after Thanksgiving. There is nothing more agonizing and emotionally devastating than waiting for the inevitable. We humans are visual and tactile creatures, and that means we believe that the people we love are contained in their bodies, and that those bodies, those vessels, are our way to be close to them and hold on to them. But a person is much more than a body. Walt Whitman said it best, "I am large. I contain multitudes." He didn't say those multitudes were relegated to his physical body, though, and that is because people have a spirit, people have a consciousness, and people have energy that goes far beyond the confines of their physical bodies. And it doesn't matter what you belief in theologically, because even science acknowledges that energy never dies. So while bodies may fail and fall to ruin, that ruin is not an ending. It is simply a change. 

I am sad that people I love keep dying. But I am sad because I will miss their company, not because I am concerned about what is next for them. I know what is next for them. "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or crying or mourning or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:4. Or for those who are not religious, "I died as a mineral and I became a plant. I died as a plant and rose to animal. I died as an animal and was human. What should I fear? When was I less by dying?" ~Rumi. 

Death is not the end for any of us. There is a comfort in that, at least.

I will mourn the loss of my grandfather. He is a great man who lived for 91 years and touched many other lives during that time. He is ready for what comes next, and I will think of him when I see eagles...and I will know he lives on, in some where or when that is a beautiful mystery to all of us until we reach it ourselves.