Death at Christmas
I was just going to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a fabulous, prosperous New Year but I received a text from someone who read my column and was touched by it. I think it was a man who sent the text but I am not sure. Here’s what he said: “Just letting you know that I read your Dec. 9 article entitled ‘I Remember Mama.’ It touched me so, having been dealt a triple whammy in our family, the passing of my dad in April of last year, my elder brother this April and my maternal Grandmama this May.”
This text moved me. I remembered my grandmother’s passing close to Christmas and how I felt then. I was much younger, in my 30s, and death then was difficult for me to deal with. When my grandmother died I was a single mother raising my children alone, subject to spells of loneliness. Those spells would sometimes get deeply painful. Maybe those memories were awakened by this text. Let me tell you how I feel about death now that I am much older.
I believe that there are two dates we have absolutely no control over — our date of birth or our birthday and our date of death. I wonder why we have not called it our “deathday.” Those are two days completely in God’s control. Once I asked my mother, “Who chose my birthday?” I was born through a Caesarean section so she or my father could have chosen the very symmetrical date. My birthday is Aug. 8, 1944 or 8/8/44, which one is tempted to interpret as 8/8/8. My mother said neither of them chose it. It was the doctor who gave her the appointment. Now I believe it was God who gave it to me and made eight my lucky number.
My mother died on Dec. 9, 2009. Eight days after she turned 88. Since she couldn’t talk anymore, I guessed it was her way of telling me she wished me luck. There was once more the proliferation of eights on the day she died. But her death changed my view of death. I now believe that when people die they really just go to another space, separated from us, yes, by a thick invisible wall so we don’t usually see them anymore but that doesn’t mean they are no longer accessible to us. They can and they do reach out to us, send us messages, appear in our dreams, or we can just hear their voices in our minds. We are always in contact with them or we can reach out whenever we choose.
I had a dear friend who one day suddenly dropped dead. One morning as I was praying the rosary I sensed him sitting on the empty chair in my porch. I didn’t actually, literally see him but I felt him there. How are you doing? I asked him in my head. He said he was doing all right but could use my prayers. Okay, I said, and began to dedicate my daily rosaries to him for a time until one day I heard him thank me. I knew I didn’t have to dedicate the whole rosary anymore.
I think we have to learn to reach for the people we love who have gone ahead of us. They are not that far away. We should not really grieve for them the way we were taught to. They are in another dimension, maybe in a better world. They are crafting their lives there. Sometimes they reach out to us because of something that happened between us that they do not understand.
One day some time ago I suddenly remembered a client of mine who was asking me, out of the blue, “Why?” I didn’t even know he had died. He was asking me why I hadn’t gone with them somewhere where I felt it was dangerous at the time. “Was it because I was going to be there?” he asked. No, I said in my head. It wasn’t you. I was just afraid of the danger. I am the only parent of my children. I alone support them. I couldn’t put my life at risk. So I sent my assistant who is single and who was willing to go. That’s the last I heard from him.
I think we should stop feeling so much sorrow when someone dies. They are not gone forever. It’s like they are in the next room. We can reach them with our minds. One day we will all be together again.
On that note, Merry Christmas and a Fabulous, Prosperous New Year to all!
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