Death and aging
My friend Lee died last week. He was recovering from a heart attack, and he just slipped away in his sleep. He was 57 years old. I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.
I met Lee in 1976. He was so handsome and so bright. (Weren't we all--we were in our late 20s and early 30s and full of life's possibilities.)
He and my ex-husband became like brothers, and Lee was best man in our wedding in 1981; then, he stood by both of us when we divorced in 1991--something only an authentic friend with great integrity could have done.
Lee walked me down the aisle when my son married in 2002.
Three years ago my best girlfriend died suddenly from a complication in what was supposed to be routine surgery. She was 55. Lee stood by my side and helped me survive the loss of my childhood friend. (Charlotte and I had been friends since we were in the third grade. She was my matron of honor in my wedding.)
At every life changing event in my adult life, these two friends were present, supporting me, advising me, joking with me, prodding me, hugging me, loving me.
What the hell is going on? We are the Boomer generation--we're supposed to live into our 80s.
The hollowness in my life--the large spaces these two great friends occupied--is immense. I cannot count the times this week that I've reached for the phone to call Lee and say, "You won't believe what just happened!" And I still miss Charlotte so much, too. She was so smart and had such great advice. They both did. Now they are gone, and I am left here to be an adult all by myself.
I do not fear death. I believe in an afterlife, and I know that my friends are at peace. I am the one suffering, because I miss them. And I've been thinking about that.
People who are in their 70s and 80s are often the ones who have outlived their family and friends. They become invisible in our culture. Or, they are treated like children instead of revered for being the sages they are.
My mother is 84. She believes she has lived a grand life and that she's made a contribution to humanity, which she has! While she doesn't have a death wish, she tells me that she feels at peace and she is ready anytime God is ready for her to take her final breath. I understand that feeling. When your contemporaries die and the younger generation is busy with making its own mark, you feel lonelier on this side and going to the other side--while not wishing for it--is not unseemly.
No, it's not a death wish, but it is a new perspective.
I met Lee in 1976. He was so handsome and so bright. (Weren't we all--we were in our late 20s and early 30s and full of life's possibilities.)
He and my ex-husband became like brothers, and Lee was best man in our wedding in 1981; then, he stood by both of us when we divorced in 1991--something only an authentic friend with great integrity could have done.
Lee walked me down the aisle when my son married in 2002.
Three years ago my best girlfriend died suddenly from a complication in what was supposed to be routine surgery. She was 55. Lee stood by my side and helped me survive the loss of my childhood friend. (Charlotte and I had been friends since we were in the third grade. She was my matron of honor in my wedding.)
At every life changing event in my adult life, these two friends were present, supporting me, advising me, joking with me, prodding me, hugging me, loving me.
What the hell is going on? We are the Boomer generation--we're supposed to live into our 80s.
The hollowness in my life--the large spaces these two great friends occupied--is immense. I cannot count the times this week that I've reached for the phone to call Lee and say, "You won't believe what just happened!" And I still miss Charlotte so much, too. She was so smart and had such great advice. They both did. Now they are gone, and I am left here to be an adult all by myself.
I do not fear death. I believe in an afterlife, and I know that my friends are at peace. I am the one suffering, because I miss them. And I've been thinking about that.
People who are in their 70s and 80s are often the ones who have outlived their family and friends. They become invisible in our culture. Or, they are treated like children instead of revered for being the sages they are.
My mother is 84. She believes she has lived a grand life and that she's made a contribution to humanity, which she has! While she doesn't have a death wish, she tells me that she feels at peace and she is ready anytime God is ready for her to take her final breath. I understand that feeling. When your contemporaries die and the younger generation is busy with making its own mark, you feel lonelier on this side and going to the other side--while not wishing for it--is not unseemly.
No, it's not a death wish, but it is a new perspective.
posted by Joyce, of course at 6:21 PM
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