The Journeys of Life and Death

Recently, I spent two weeks with my daughter and son-in-law and their newborn twins. These weeks are among the most precious in my life. I was awestruck as I fed, bathed, watched, and glorified in new life. Watching my own child, and the woman she has become, care for her children represented one of life’s most exciting passages. I savored the moments, capturing a mental image of each visitor’s reactions to these tiny, helpless human beings. My adult son, who will always be my baby, summed it up when he first met and held the babies, saying, “Wow,” with tears quietly streaming down his face. How wonderful to capture part of life’s deepest experiences!

So much of my work for 18 years as a hospital chaplain specializing in death and dying has been in helping patients and families come together at a time that for so many is extraordinarily difficult. The bedside is usually quiet as we sit and wait for the patient to begin a new journey. Yet dying patients have much to teach us if we allow ourselves just to be present to the moment and to the experience. Death, which we must all face, can be a growth experience for the living. It is with great passion that I serve the sick and dying and it was with great passion that I gave witness to the life of my grandchildren surrounded by love and gentle caring.

Regrettably, people sometimes let some of the most precious moments of life pass them by without fully embracing the possibilities. I am reminded of the pain of a mature man who at age 50 had witnessed the birth of his first child and was extraordinarily eager to be present when his parents arrived from a far distance to see their first grandchild. He had been joyous at the birth of his child and several times on the telephone he had asked his parents to time their arrival so he could be present when they first saw the new arrival, but they ignored the request and arrived several hours earlier than planned. Though he did not, or perhaps could not, clearly articulate what he had hoped the three generations would experience, he

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clearly felt the sting of his wishes being disregarded. Nevertheless, the tears of joy I saw in his eyes as he watched his teary-eyed father hold his grandson for the first time suggested to a therapist friend of mine that there was much unfinished business in the family that the new father had hoped to overcome at the specially timed meeting of the generations he had tried to plan.

Perhaps because of my own personal journey into grandparenthood, the helplessness and dependence of both the newborn and the dying became even more focused for me as I most reluctantly left my grandchildren to return home. The reflections once again were tied together with my hospital experience. Several years ago, I remember the statement of an adult son after his dad had died in our hospice program. He too said, “Wow,” and then added, “I am so glad I was here to be part of this process.” As he was leaving the bedside he asked me, “How many people get to share this kind of time with a loved one?” I responded by saying, “As many as we can possibly have that will step into this very difficult time in the journey. Many who say ‘No’ don’t know they have missed anything.”

What a wonderful process this journey of life invites us to share and experience. Not just for ourselves but especially with those we love. “Life is a Journey” not just for the young or the old but for all of us who will take the leap to reach out to each other both in birth and in death.

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