The Good Ones

Another tender soul has succumb to Cancer. Last week, a young mother of two took her final breath after a long battle with the beast. She had an infectious smile, one that would travel up her cheeks and settle into her eyes with a twinkle. Wishing for more time, I had only two short evenings with her. But that's all you needed to love her so.

It stirs up too familiar feelings...why does Cancer seem to feast on the bright lights of this world? More generic, why do bad things happen to good people? It seems the truly evil, and even mildly naughty often manage a clear bill. I know a few people that would deserve such justice. But thankfully, I'm not sovereign, I don't make the rules. Perhaps the good ones have learned life's lesson early and no longer need to suffer here. Their reward awaits on the other side. Mean while, the rest of us need more training. What if this world is simply training grounds for something better? What if this place we call home is simply a pit-stop? Plucked from it like a carnival claw game if you've managed to live a righteous life despite your circumstances? Overcome with sadness among those  left behind, but ultimately we're moving thru our own test?

Not sure why good people suffer while the naughty thrive. All I know is that this place we live is certainly not Heaven. Terrible injustice and evil intermingles with the sweet and pure at every moment. A wicked dance. A terrible struggle. Sadness, mourning, loss, depression, suicide, abuse, gossip, stress, illness. Joy, love, laughter, beauty, peace, charity, support, kindness, trust, compassion, grace. All living

together..yin and yang. I suppose the trick is to look at this life we're given in the positive ....darkness is inevitable, but choose light. Death is unavoidable, but remember their life. Hate is an option, but choose love.

She, like so many others I know, lived a life of love. There was struggle and sadness, but the common thread is that they focused on the positive...as thin as it appeared at times. More of us should lift our eyes to that goal...stretching and reaching for the positive in this desperate world. Linda, Bill, Carol, Kim, Tom, Gerald...I want to live like that.

Death Etiquette for the Socially Awkward

My Aunt Carol was an organ donor and when her body started to surrender, her husband Tom made that difficult decision to let her go. He nobly stood bedside for days after she collapsed from a heart attack while they were preparing for a golf tournament. It was too much for him, however, to watch her fade those final minutes. My stronger than grit, Aunt Bootsie and my Mom led the charge and I followed timidly behind as we decided to watch her take her final breath. The three of us were suited head to toe in surgical protective covering and entered locked doorways to the dark hallway leading to surgery. There she was, my saucy Aunt Carol, heart beating artificially, laid out and strapped in crucifix position. The room was chilly, I suppose to help preserve the organs as they are removed. Bootsie whispered comforting words in her ear and Mom and I stroked her hair. She would have been mortified that it was undone. I was taken aback by a single tear that slowly streamed from her eye...I pointed it out to Mom as she silently nodded. To this day, I'm not sure if it was Carol or just the surge of fluids they coursed throughout her body to aide in the removal. I like to think it was Carol's last gift. I suddenly was overcome by the situation and the frigid room did nothing for my rising temperature. The room became uncomfortably small and peering eyes from the waiting doctors were more than I could bear. I had to escape to the hallway...back sliding down the cool walls, I struggled to regulate my breathing. A few minutes later, Bootsie and Mom joined me and I knew she was gone.

I was undone. Not just the loss of my dearest Aunt, but the experience itself was overwhelming. I had never escorted someone out of this world. I will never forget the sympathy card I received a few short days later from a socially clueless neighbor. It basically read 'stop your belly-aching'. I'm paraphrasing, but the sentiment was clear. And it made me realize that not everyone knew how to deal, relate, or reach out to those experiencing death. It's clearly not enjoyable being the mourner, but for some, it's equally uneasy being the comforter. For those that find comforting, well, uncomfortable, I'm happy to provide some guidance. Let's start simply as to not overwhelm.

1. Just be there. Make sure they are breathing. You don't have to create some grand gesture, some profound provision. Just be still beside them and let them know you are there. A hug or holding a hand can comfort an aching soul. Instead of comforting my Aunt Gail when her husband Bill passed, certain friends completely avoided her. Telling her much later that they just didn't know what to say. I think she was more upset by their absence the full year post loss than by any words that may have been clumsily spoken.
2. Send a card. Heck, write a letter on a napkin if the Sympathy card section at Walmart is too overwhelming for you. So many choices, too many sad sentiments, should you get a religious card or a more vanilla version? Ultimately, it doesn't matter. Just don't sign it 'quit your belly-aching'. Stick to something more appropriate such as 'I'm sorry for your loss' or 'You are in my thoughts'.
3. Feeling ambitious? Provide a meal. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snacks are all perfect as the mourning need to eat all times of the day. If they aren't up to eating, they often have family members that need to maintain their energy. Chicken Noodle soup is the best soul comforting food I know. Local shops make it from scratch and it's divine...skip the stove and swing by Browns or Saubels. Throw in some crackers and cookies and you've got yourself some love in a basket. Tip for the mourners: Be grateful. Even if you don't eat spinach in your lasagna, say thank you.
4. Help them remember good memories. Ok, so this tip may be off limits to the socially oblivious. But for those of you that know the power of intentionally spoken words, asking a few well placed questions can lift spirits. Have them recall a favorite moment, a funny story...let them share the legacy of memory with you. Then truly listen.