Death Became Us

Around this time a year ago, I marked the passing of my dad. Much like a year ago I was awakened with mornings of bright sun. It wasn’t too hot yet. Again, I was wondering how I was going to approach the day, or every day, for that matter? Much as it was a year ago, my second thought was: I don’t know what the day was going to hold, but I was going to be ready with a tool kit that included a combination of joy, determination, meaning, and purpose to figure things out; and that included as much awareness as I could consciously be mindful of. I was going to welcome the days with realistic optimism as my dad did many days in his life. And for the more difficult days, I would pull out the heavy-duty tools-some perseverance, along with patience, genuine appreciation, gratitude, and introspection-to get through it. Little did I know on that hot summer day that would be the last time my family and I would be with him. Thanks to my mom, the family had an opportunity to reflect with him by his bedside and say loving goodbyes. That day, the days that followed, and over the past year, represented a time that irrevocably changed my life. I’ve had a year of experiencing elation and sadness, reverence and respect for him, and his wisdom and imperfections; basically, to reflect on who my father was and why he brought so many different emotions to the surface.

My dad thought being happy was a choice that could be fulfilled simply with a set of beliefs that included being open and aware, understanding and accepting, and finally celebratory and triumphant of whom we are relative to what was happening in our world. Not the kind of “party celebration” happy that we all know, but a noble and quiet celebration from within that knows and acknowledges progress without external affirmation. Throughout it all, there would be no judgement, because as he thought, who are we to judge others but ourselves flawed individuals. So, he would say, “if you’re not happy, do what makes you happy.” Most often to him, being happy meant looking no further than the person in the mirror to figure it out. Those are pretty simple and profound words that many of us find difficult to heed because, little do we realize, we’ve gotten so use to being unhappy.

Just being in my dad’s presence, gave me strength. It’s that learned strength that I called upon to intimately face his and ultimately face other’s deaths. I learned death makes you stop and realize how precious life really is. Looking back on the year since my dad left this world, the big lesson I learned-death actually teaches us how to live-hasn’t changed much. Not only does it teach us how to live, but our perception (or fear) of death will amplify how we live our lives. Pause for a moment to think about that statement. So, I want to offer what I learned from the man of significance and substance who, by his example, created a legacy worth striving for and sharing with you.

Death is elusive. It’s never too far away and something we live with as a part of life. Death becomes us in many ways. For every one of us-young, old, rich, poor, male, female-all roads lead to the same place. Each death we experience teaches us something about celebrating life-how to live, why we want to live, and who and what we live for. Here’s what resonated with me and how dad lived in the wake of death, which loomed large over the better part of 40 of his 82 years of life.

1. We’ll never be able to spend enough time with the person or people we love before they die. True love is missed and grieving is a demonstration of missing that true love. That’s what love teaches us. Love transcends time, materialism, and ego.
2. Death teaches us about faith, compassion, forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation. Nobody’s perfect. Daddy wasn’t, but he made up for it many times over.
3. Death teaches us to value time and how precious it is. The mystery of time is humbling because it is never as long as you think it is, and we never know how much we have of it, but what we do know: think about it, more time we get, the less time we have. Coveted each precious minute, the hours and days.
4. Similarly, we cannot change time. It is not beholden to us. We are beholden to it.
5. Death can teach us to respect one another. Dad always showed respect to others. He didn’t condemn others because he understood that we were not always defined by our circumstances.
6. He didn’t squander precious time with squabbles. He knew we’re only human, humans are faulty and that’s okay.
7. Death teaches us about the permanency of life. Everything about life up to the point of death is mutable. We can’t necessarily change “what is” after death. Cherish the one precious life we have. Reach out to those with whom you have difficulty. Resolve inner and outer conflict. Find joy and peace always.
8. Is there anything ever as important as it seems in life? Maybe so. If it is, do the work. Do what it takes to make whatever is important the focal point of your life. Daddy would say, “you’ve got to want it to make it work.”
9. Death teaches us to honor our temples, our bodies. Take care of your health.
10. Death teaches us to have fun and enjoy life.
11. Death teaches us to value life and all that it has to offer. Celebrate life and all that it has to offer.
12. Death teaches us to love like you never loved before. Love is at the center of our core. Dad loved life, his family, sports, and old television shows.
13. Death wants us to make promises that we will want to keep. It makes us want to do our best. It teaches us what really matters.
14. Death makes us want to settle up before the hour of truth. Get our houses in order. Be intentional with our actions. Death is too elusive to play the odds so it pays to actively settle up every day.
15. If we’re intentional and lucky enough, death teaches us clarity, authenticity, generosity, patience and humility.
16. Death creates expectations of goodness. Be honor-worthy, trust worthy and faith-worthy.

Now I imagine this MAN, my dad, larger than life, being reassuring and comforting, carrying the burdens of live, going in hard along the spectrum of his humanity. His loving arms that held me wrapped themselves metaphorically around many, and as long as dad stood on his own two feet, he did what he could do to inspire, respect and love us. He touched many.

Towards the end, dad allowed my mom, brother, sister, and me to guide him, help him, and stand strong and loving for him. He felt nothing but that love as we all said our goodbyes and he acknowledged that love with hand squeezes and head nods to everything we said at the point at which we all knew his life and death became us.

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