On Death

Valley of the Shadow of Death - Roger Fenton
(Source)

At times I think too much and death has been on my mind rather a lot as of late.

As one ages I suppose that's only natural, mind you I don't really fear my own death. We all die eventually. I fear the death of those around me, those I know and love.

Now my religion teaches that, if we've been "good" (and that's in quotes as I'm never really sure who gets to define what that means) that we go to a better place. Oddly enough, from what I hear in the hymns we sing in church, it sounds like a rather boring kind of place.

Streets of gold? Mansions? No sea?

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. - Revelation 21:1

That has been interpreted in a number of ways by people no doubt smarter than I, but still one gets the impression that Heaven will look absolutely nothing like Earth. Which when I think about it makes no sense. For that matter, there is much in religion that makes no sense. But theology aside, existence after death would be different.

No pain, no sorrow...

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. - Revelation 21:4

Now some argue that without sadness, how do we know what happiness is? Simple, at least to me anyway, if we have experienced sadness in this life (and who has not?) then we should certainly notice its absence in the next.

You might be wondering why I am thinking about this today. The short explanation is that on the way to work on Tuesday, I saw three cars parked alongside the road I sometimes take to go to work. It passes through a forested area, in New England (and many other places besides) where there is forest, there are deer.

One car had a few younger folks around it, they seemed distressed. About college-age, no doubt students at the local university. One girl stepped obliviously from her vehicle directly into the roadway. Fortunately the traffic headed towards her, which included myself, though further back in the line, had slowed. For seeing vehicles stopped along a roadway, and people looking somewhat distressed, is an unusual occurrence. She was no doubt rather shaken by what had occurred just before my arrival.

I, having seen this sort of thing far too often in the past, looked to the ditch beside the road. There, absolutely still, lay a dead deer. From the look of things she had not suffered, the end appeared to have been quick. For which I was thankful, I've seen times where it wasn't quick.

Now some of you may be thinking, "Okay, Sarge, you saw a dead deer beside the road on the way to work. Big deal, I see that all the time where I live." (And no doubt from juvat's stories here on the blog, he's been in more than one 1 v 1 between a vehicle and a deer.) But there, in the ditch was this beautiful animal who had been alive not 30 minutes before. Now her spirit was no more, she didn't exist in this world.

Perhaps I'm overly sensitive, I've always leaned that way, but lately death has intruded on my peaceful existence more than I care for.

Shortly after composing yesterday's tribute to Captain Mariner (which you have to admit is a superb name for a sailor, though she was an aviator) I received an email that informed me of the death of a long time member of my church.

Sure, he was in his 90s, a veteran, he arrived in England with his anti-aircraft battery just about the time Hitler was assuming room temperature. His unit didn't make it into the war, they stayed in Europe, didn't transfer to the Pacific. (Where Japanese aircraft were dwindling to nothing on land but still a huge threat at sea, where Army anti-aircraft batteries weren't of much use.)

His name was Bud, I'd known him for nearly 20 years, he'd been ailing lately, living in the local veterans home but we hadn't heard of any life threatening illnesses. Though he had had a scare last year. He was a great guy. Another person I knew who is now, at least in my observation, no more. He joins my buddy Fred, my Dad, Lex, and all my grandparents, uncles and aunts, and many others. I miss them.

What lies beyond this existence? I don't know for sure. That's not the crux of what's been on my mind. It's not my death that concerns me (I may have mentioned that already), after all, 18 years ago I was misdiagnosed* with something that was damned near guaranteed to kill me in 7 years. Which would have been 11 years ago by my reckoning.

I talked about that then with my buddy Fred, who was also my pastor.

"You seem pretty calm about it." Fred remarked.

"Well, the way I look at it, it's better than being hit by a bus. I've got time to, ya know, think about it, get my affairs in order. To get used to the idea." That's how I put it at the time. (Was I overjoyed when another doctor pointed out the first doctor's error? Why yes, yes I was.)

So what's bothering me? In short, I don't want to lose any more friends, relatives, loved ones, cats, dogs, heck, even the random deer crossing the road at an inopportune time. Those who have "moved on," I miss terribly. Are they in a better place? Perhaps. But the bottom line is that they are not here, where I can see them, where I can talk to them. They have gone to a place I cannot go. At least not yet.

Is there "life" after death? I prefer to think of it as a further existence, not life but something like life. For life ends in death, at least I think it does. Life involves sorrow, hardship, pain, and loss. So it isn't like life at all, at least I hope not. I hope it involves the good bits of life - seeing old friends, family members, much loved dogs and cats, and the like.

I rather hope there will be blue skies, sunshine and night- the Lord created both, why not in the afterlife as well? There should be mountains, plains, hills, lakes and rivers, grass and trees, all those things we love in this world.

I also hope that there will be seas as well. Music, good books, and all the time we need to listen and read. Coffee, I hope there is good coffee. Beer and wine, both God's gifts to us. (At least I think so. Yes, yes, in moderation, I'm sure the Good Lord hasn't much time for drunks in the afterlife, He spends a lot of time in this world trying to protect them from themselves. One might say that I've "been there, done that." But I'm betting a mild buzz is still attainable, at least not frowned upon.)

I don't know. But I do know this, I don't want to lose any more friends or family. But hey, it's going to happen whether I want it or not. I'm here until the end, whenever and wherever that may be, and so far I'm enjoying, for the most part, the journey itself.

Ah well, the things I think...

When I get too down, I like listening to this song. Written to a friend who was at death's door for a time. To me, the song writer is hopeful that his friend will recover, but he's prepared for the worst. I have been "On the Mend" myself for a long time, for many reasons...

On the Mend

by Chris Shiflett, Taylor Hawkins, Nate Mendel & Dave Grohl

One more day that I've survived

Another night alone

Pay no mind I'm doing fine

I'm breathing on my own

I'm here

And I'm on the mend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend my friend

Wake me when the hour arrives

Wake me with my name

See you somewhere down the line

We're tethered once again

I'm here

And I'm on the mend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend my friend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend my friend

Was it you

Sat alone

Here we go

Close your eyes and stay a while

To take me where you go

Single file we walk the mile

Who's wandering back home

I'm here

And I'm on the mend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend my friend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend

I'm here

And I'm on the mend my friend

Was it you

Sat alone

Here we go

Here we go

Here we go

Here we go

Yup, for those who have gone on before, "See you somewhere down the line..."

I pray.




* I was diagnosed in 2001 with anaplastic large-cell lymphoma, which actually turned out to be lymphomatoid papulosis, which is a rare skin disorder that is characterised by crops of self healing skin lesions that look cancerous under the microscope but are actually benign (non-malignant). Lesions contain unusual cells that are similar to those found in some lymphomas (cancers of the lymphatic system). [Source] Which has been in remission for a long time now. Which makes me very, very happy.