Death Be Not Proud
When Our Faith is Our Strength
There are two things that are inevitable in our Earthly lives…death and taxes. We spend all our adult lives complaining about taxes, when we know that so many services we enjoy come from tax collecting. We also know we cannot take our money with us, to the hereafter, so the question becomes why do we take our lives so seriously when it comes to money, when people are all that really matter?
Indeed, when a loved one becomes terminally sick or a loved one passes on, we stop and realize how much time we have spent complaining about Earthly things we had no control over, when we could have been spending our time and our money making their lives happier or easier. Usually, by the time one figures this out, it is too late, and little can be done to regain that human time lost. Spending dollars on coffins and burials and services and flowers for the deceased is not what most of us have in mind when we think of dollars well spent. Our dear ones are not aware of the slide shows compiled for them or the roses that grace their coffins, but they were all too aware of the time lost, due to other things that seemed more important at the time. Time is a funny thing because one always believes there will be more of it. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” is a phrase used too often in a world of minutia. The minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks and the years fly by and soon that person you had always wanted to spend more time with is beyond your reach and you are sad and angry at yourself for your choices. These are, of course, the facts of life; so many things, so few hours in a day, so little of you to go around.
There are some, however, that we share the planet with, that look at life and death without fear, without condemnation and without remorse, regarding things they may not have accomplished in their Earthly lives. They felt blessed with every moment spent with them and would never want their loved ones to feel sad about anything regarding life’s timeline.
Quite recently, I attended a funeral service for a larger-than-life man. He had lived among the five women in his life quite well. His four daughters, now grown, lived all over the country, but their love for him was up close and personal. He was given a myriad of talents and used all of them, while inhabiting this planet. He was smart, musical, artistic, creative and incredibly kind. Having four daughters demanded patience and gentility and he offered all of them a wonderful upbringing with his beloved wife. He looked at his family with proud eyes and should have, as they all inherited his kindness and talents. His storytelling about these amazing women would set those proud eyes dancing, because he felt so blessed. As grandchildren and great-grandchildren entered his life, he made room for all of them in his heart and at his home. Pictures he drew of his family members decked the walls of his house, and it was hard to picture a better life anywhere. But somewhere in those wizened eyes, he knew there was another place awaiting him, and when it was time to leave the Earth behind, he went quietly, surrounded by those he loved.
He once wrote a book entitled The Dash Between, where he, of course, spoke of his life and his family, but also addressed this station of life, where he was living out his years, waiting for the next adventure. He was deeply spiritual and knew exactly where he was headed after this life. We were friends and became friends in a way both of our families were not happy about; we both smoked cigarettes and henceforth, had to go outside of our workplaces to feed our habits. As we stood around the same old tin-can ashtray, we would talk about things like life and death; we were both English teachers, and we both were always looking for meaning. We were also smart enough to know we shouldn’t be smoking, but we did. I eventually became friends with one of his daughters, a soul as gentle and kind as her father, and four of his grandchildren, and saw the deep devotion they all had for each other.
When I peered at his precious face for the last time, I saw the peace he always knew there would be after death had proudly taken over. He may have been gone from those who loved him so dearly, but there are some who are never truly gone because of the strong effect they have had on your life. He is one of those people. I will miss you Rick Colyer and so will the world you touched.
Another such person, who will remain unnamed, but lives within our midst, is a near-perfect soul, who is on her last trip around the sun, and she is well aware of how much time she has left to be in Schoharie County. Her incredible faith, like Rick’s, is enviable. She knows exactly where she is going and does not fear this next step. Her family is made calm daily by her, as they wonder just how they will make it without her. Her truth is laid bear by making them recognize that they already can do everything themselves and she has done her job well. As she dutifully sees that her last will and testament and house-chores are done, so at least she has left the Earth with a clean home and less ‘final documents” to bother her family with, she looks skyward knowing the long trip she has had on the Earth was just one moment in time; her personal paradise was indeed ahead of her.
Faith is so important in this life of taxes, greed, hate, jealousy, thievery and overall frustration, because knowing our loved ones have gone on to something greater, while still living within us, makes death bearable and as in these aforementioned cases mentioned here, acceptable.
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