Are we ever too young or ever too old to ponder, in our own way, why we're here? Life seems long sometimes. Sometimes, not so long. Regardless, it's all we have, so let's do our best to do it the best we can.
Could I have chosen three weightier topics for today's message?
Probably not.
A few weeks ago, Grandmother (almost 92 years old) our son-in-law's grandmother, passed away. Her last days were mostly peaceful. Family from Texas to Alaska, and all around Central Oregon showed up to shower her with their love-filled gratitude and goodbyes.
The most poignant moment for me happened just a few hours after Grandmother passed...I'll get to that later.
When Wendy and I arrived, Grandmother was lying on her bed in the living room of her devoted daughter Donna and son-in-law Ron. We knew this would be her final day. The family gathered. Each person took their turn at standing or sitting beside beloved Grandmother. That was the name everyone called her, but she was also a mother, great-grandmother and the dear family elder for all of us who gathered.
Nothing formal. We chatted, laughed, cried, told stories, ate wonderful food (as always) and a lot of hugging. Grandmother, eyes closed, lying on her back, was inhaling and exhaling slowly.
This was life, death and love, all peacefully interwoven in the living room of life. Truly a blessing to be able to say goodbye, each in our own way. Life is different for each and every one of us. So is death. Love, too. We each write our own stories with the help of our creator, our co-writers and editors.
When we gather and vulnerably share our stories, our souls connect deeply. Sharing our personal stories with trusted comrades, personal guides and sometimes even strangers, is one of life's most powerful love medicines. Too many things in today's world function to separate us from ourselves and each other, either by design or by our misuse.
Do any of us really know what we sign up for when we arrive on our job? The job, of course, being life.
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Grandmother and Granddad married at ages 17 and 18, and in 1960, traveled north to the Warm Springs Indian Reservation in Central Oregon. They were on a mission sponsored by the Southern Baptist Church. Granddad was the pastor. Grandmother's role was mother of their three daughters and also to everyone else who came into their home.
What was the mission they were on?
Some might disagree, but knowing them as I have been blessed to have known them, their mission was to bring as much love and inner peace as possible into the hearts and souls of every person they touched. All that had to be accomplished while they were the Anglo outsiders in a foreign land. Blessedly, they were loved and accepted by the Warm Springs residents, because they loved and accepted them.
Grandmother and Granddad spent 33 years doing their best to be as loving as they could with each other, their children and everyone else. Patience, kindness, generosity, manual labor, cattle herding and also, along the way, some teaching and preaching.
Did they know what they were getting themselves into when they signed up for their mission?
You know the answer.
Do any of us really know what we sign up for when we arrive on our job? The job, of course, being life. All the while knowing, somewhere in our heads, there will be a final curtain.
In my book club that has been meeting for 20 years, I mentioned that the title of my upcoming message was "Life, Death...and Love." There was a thoughtful pause. Jim, one of our members who is going through some challenging end-of-life issues in his family, spoke up, "Aren't they all part of one thing?" There was a longer pause.
A new friend I met at a Bend Park and Recreation facility recently started a men's group. Just four of us, so far. Two of these new buddies are in their 80s, then a wise, young 65-year-old fellow and me. All of us are dedicated to keep learning and loving as best we can till our clocks stop ticking.
Back to Grandmother and the most poignant moment I promised you.
She took her last breaths the next morning around 7am. A few hours later, my daughter Jessie and granddaughter Lyza came to say their goodbyes. Lyza, who recently turned seven, walked over to Grandmother in her loving, curious way. She opened up Grandmother's eye lids and patted her cheeks. Then gently laid down by her side. For a long period of time, Lyza was in a trance just looking calmly at this special person who was a huge part of her young life, and will be forever more.
Life, death...and love.
Blessings.
— Burt Gershater is a counselor, leadership trainer, speaker and writer.
He can be reached at [email protected]
