Nancy's funeral was Friday afternoon. For those of us who couldn't go, there was a memorial service at the hospital, which was nice. I was able to view the slideshow today, and the service itself was really pretty helpful, I must admit. A chaplain from Hospice performed talked to us, but mostly it was people talking about how she touched their lives.
A friend of mine and I were talking about why I took her death so hard, given the fact that I really didn't know her that well, and certainly not outside of work. He believes, and I agree, that part of it is that the last person in my life to die was my grandfather, eight years ago, and he was older and had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease/emphysema and had been on oxygen for years. It was not unexpected. Most of the people in my life who I've mourned died due to an illness that prepared everyone for the eventuality. The one exception I can think of was a young man in a wheelchair I'd been tutoring who was killed by a car as he was crossing the street. But I was nineteen or twenty at the time, and although I was sad about him, I didn't really make a link between his mortality and mine.
But now I'm in my forties, I'm diabetic, overweight, and very much feeling the weight of my mortality. It's not that I'm particularly afraid of death per se, but it is the unknown quality that unsettles me. And Nancy's death--someone closer to my own age, sudden as it was, and with her dying alone--underscores the idea that we all will die, sometimes without farewells or wrapping up loose ends, and especially it reminds me that I could die at any time--and yes, die alone. I find myself thinking sometimes questions like: Will my family respect my wish to be cremated, to give my organs? Should I write a will? How will I die? How will my loved ones take it? How will the readers of my blog know? Will I be remembered fondly? Have I touched any lives? What will people think of the mess that is my house when they have to go through it? That sort of thing...
And part of it, too, is that I feel like such a failure in my life, in terms of what I've accomplished. But that's mostly because I'm pretty critical; I don't always see the good in life very easily. I do know that one of my best qualities is that I'm a fiercely loyal person. And I'm sure there are other good qualities. But I can't say I have joie de vivre, or that spark that Nancy had.
One thing my friend said that struck me, though, (and I'm paraphrasing since I don't remember the exact words, but it was expressed much better than this) is that there's no way to know how people will really be remembered until their work is finished and they've died.
I guess most of us have thoughts on mortality as we get older. It's only natural. But Nancy's death has given me more to digest about death, and life, and I can only hope it will have an impact in how I approach the rest of my life, and how I myself will be remembered.
I know that's several posts now on the subject. Thanks for bearing with me.
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