It is all Connected

Which song should I play as an intro? “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw? How about Kris Allen’s “Live Like We’re Dying”? I’ve got some more songs that didn’t make the radio but have the same message. 

And I agree with the message. But death is not a pop song. A life isn’t 3 minutes and 20 seconds long. The death of my mom this summer and the death of my wife’s mom yesterday morning has taught me some hard lessons that you won’t find in any lyrics because there are some tough things to process.

The hardest lesson is the reality that death brings the end of a life. That’s it. One moment they are in this world, there is a chance, a hope, possibility to talk, to eat breakfast. After the last breath, that is all gone. As I stated in an earlier post, there is not even a today for that person, for us. Their story has ended.

Even as a poet I can’t describe the empty space in life that death makes when someone has passed. When I went home to visit my dad this summer I felt it in the house. Yesterday, we visited my father-in-law and I felt that same emptiness in the house. They are just gone. 

I know there are memories, pictures, and the effects of the relationship built with someone. But the physical reality of them not here challenges my heart. There are no hugs, no laughter, no opportunity to share moments with them. There is a silent emptiness that reminds me that they were here. 

Both my mom’s and my mother-in-law’s death destroyed them physically. Which in turn took away a part of who they were as people. My mom couldn’t read her mystery books or take walks. My wife’s mother hardly moved, she was in and out of consciousness. The fear in my mom’s eyes haunts me. My mother-in-law’s painful mumbles echo in my head. 

Part of who we are is connected to the condition of our bodies. When the body starts to deteriorate, so does our ability to be who we are. I had never held my mom’s hands so much as I did the months leading up to her death. At times that was the only way to say I was there. To say I love you. 

Death is not a final scene with soft music playing in the background. It is a harsh reality that challenges everyone. 

Then there is life, which continues, even as I mourn the loss of two mothers, two wives, two grandmas. Two stories that have ended. Yet, the sun rises each morning. Orion appears in the night sky. Other stories are being told all around me.

I don’t want to live like I’m dying. I want to live so that when the time comes for my story to end, my loved ones can close the book and say, “that was a good story.”