GROINSTRONG

just a few hours ago, reverend forrest church, a good friend of mine (and of many) lost his battle with esophageal cancer, a battle that most expected to be far shorter than forrest’s indomitable spirit would allow. i am up late, still under the sway of the pre-chemo steroids, which, as they fade away, make sleep difficult. with the massive doses of daily steroids behind me, i’ve encountered far fewer of the anxious treacherous late nights. but the passing of a friend is enough to keep me up.

i am glancing through rev. church’s book love and death, with its signed note exhorting me, whenever i should so desire, to call on the services of an old chemo pro. which i did, but of course not nearly enough. our few meetings were enlightening, even as they moved into uncomfortable or difficult territory;  how to be present with your family and dearest friends about your potential passing, how to come to terms with putting your own goals and ambitions on hold, how to live every day staring into the eyes of mortality. all our passings are guaranteed, but for many cancer patients (and patients of so many terminal illnesses), death is transformed, from an abstract, distant entity (even more so at the age of 29) to a presence that changes every relationship – from those loved most dear to even the most casual encounter with a stranger and the decision to explain a bright pink bracelet on your wrist.

forrest explained that the goal of our lives should be “to live in such a way that our lives will prove worth dying for.” i’m sure his inevitable obituary in the new york times tomorrow will state that rev. church was brave enough, even before his terminal diagnosis, to live in just such a way. his simple, challenging mantra – want what you have, do what you can, be who you are – was a mantra in which he powerfully believed and tried to live to its fullest as he approached his endtime (as he discussed last year on fresh air). love and death is full of meditations such as this one, along with advice for helping others walk paths of pain, illness, loss and death. learning to support others through our own trials is a unique and valuable benefit  – silver linings can be hard to see amongst dark clouds of suffering, but there are always lessons, even lessons of pain, full of difficulty and frustration and rage.

“death is love’s measure,” forrest writes. “not only is our grief when someone dies testimony to our love, but when we ourselves die, the love we have given to others is the one thing death can’t kill.”

for what little time forrest and i had together, i am and will forever be eternally grateful. the love and wisdom he passed on to me is one thing death truly cannot kill. i can only hope to do justice to his principles.

Let us want what we have -
Praying for health, if we are blessed with health.
For friendship, if we are blessed with friendship.
For family, if we are blessed with family.
For work, if we are blessed with tasks that await our doing.
And if our lives are dark, may we remember to want nothing more than the loving
Affection of those whose hearts are broken by our pain.

Let us do what we can -
Not dream impossible dreams or climb every mountain,
But dream one possible dream and climb one splendid mountain,
That our life may be blessed with attainable meaning.

And let us be who we are -
Embrace our God-given nature and talents.
Answer the call that is ours, not another’s,
Thereby enhancing our little world and the greater world we share….

Call it thoughtful wishing.
All we have to do it put our heart in it.
And there’s one more bonus.
Unlike wishful thinking, thoughtful wishes always come true.

Amen. I love you. And may God bless us all.

Tags: love and death

This entry was posted on Friday, September 25th, 2009 at 2:25 am and is filed under philosophizing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.