W E C R O A K
It’s an actual app you can get on your smart phone and five times a day it reminds you that you’re going to die. Now gives some nice messages and philosophical view points:
F I V E T I M E S A D A Y
But no matter how it’s sweetened, no matter how the edges are softened, the fact of the matter is true:
We are going to die; or as the app promises:
W E C R O A K
You’d think after being with hospice since 1994;
Working as a hospital chaplain since 1987
and being an ordained minister since 1980
I would get this. . .
Make no mistake about it, I believe it. I know it, I know we’re gonna die,
I know I’m gonna die; I know it, I know that I know it, I’d bet my life that I know it (no pun intended) but if I didn’t wake up tomorrow morning, or if I didn’t make it home tonight, or if I had a heart attack after putting the period on this Blog post or even in the middle of it,
I would be the most shocked person in the world. . .
This past week a colleague of mine died. He was a true GENTLE MAN; One of the kindest most compassionate people I’ve ever worked with or have ever known. He’s younger than me, has had six less Christmas’ than I’ve celebrated; He’s been a caregiver for his mother and his brother and other family members and countless hospital,l nursing home, and hospice patients. To him working was never a job or a vocation; caring for people was his lifestyle. He rivaled no others in the care that he gave.
His love, his compassion, his gentleness, his care, didn’t keep him from getting pancreatic cancer; it didn’t keep him from dying. Though he gave so much in a not so perfect world, he wasn’t immune from this thing that we call death, in fact, DEATH awaits all of us and serves as a reminder, at any given time, any given moment. . .
I may be next.
That’s not the tragedy if there is one. . .
The WOE is I might not be aware of living every moment that I have available to me. In all the years that I’ve served others, not one dying patient has shown me in return how to die, but I can’t remember one who hasn’t illustrated in living vivid color how to live.
W E C R O A K
The question is do we ever really
L I V E
Fully. exuberantly. zestfully. without any regrets. . .
We don’t answer with our mouth‘s or thoughts only with her actions on this one;
A N O T H E R
well. . .
they don’t get to judge whether or not we’ve done those things with this
L I V I N G
w e d o. . .
I met with his team this past Tuesday and we remembered him and honored him with reminiscing, once upon a timing, and remember when’s;
We laughed; we cried; but most of all we remembered;
I asked them as I now ask you, if we had an opportunity to walk through a set of magical doors and it meant that we were no longer shed a tear we would have no regrets there would be no pain of loss bereavement in grief would have no means whatsoever but it would also mean that we never had the chance the opportunity to blessing to have a loved one in our life would you choose the walk through those magical doors that somehow right now don’t seem quite so magical. . .
Maybe it was because of his age
or just his gentle kindness
How can you not ask this question of him and others:
WHAT FOR. . ?
But it also means having the guts to flip that coin over and ask the same questions of WHY
a loved one ever GIFTS themselves in our lives. . ?
I passed a basket of stones around and instructed each person there to let us don’t use them instead of them choosing one. I reached in and chose a black one I didn’t look for it I didn’t go by for your site or touch your sense of smell when I pulled it out
IT looked a little marred, scarred, almost as if the stone itself was wrapping around its imperfections. It instantly reminded me of him; that’s what he did; He wrapped himself around your heart; your pain; your anxiety; your fear; and had a way of making it better just with an infectious smile.
After we each had a rock, a stone which chose us, I told them that there is one thing stronger than the stone or rock which is ageless in our life and that’s love that’s why we have grave stones or grave markers made of granite, or rock or some kind of hard stone because it not only survives the test of time, but it’s only surpassed, over powered, and falls severely short of one thing, STRONGER:
O U R L O V E
True, right. . .?
MEMORIES are nothing unless interwoven with OUR LOVE
W E C R O A K
W e d i e. . .
And our memories ~~well they mean nothing, nothing at all unless there’s love attached to them that literally makes them everything that they were everything that they are in everything that they’ve always be.
Wow. We are a bunch of losers, aren’t we. . .
We’ve lost not keys, not glasses, not remote controls, or pens; not an article of clothing or piece of jewelry;
NO. . . we’ve lost. . . lost people that are so dear to us;
Precious, priceless Gifts and yet, having lost, look at all we’ve gained because they have been a part of our lives and always will be
And that never croaks or dies
is a RIPPLE
that has lapped upon OUR SHORES
Hopefully, that’ll cause endless RIPPLES
that’ll lap up on the Shores of Countless Others. . .
The Ultimate Response?
T H A N K Y O U