Death is all around us. We are reminded daily that the circle of life completes itself in death. We see leaves turning amber and falling from the tree. Occasionally find the baby chick that had fallen from the nest lifeless on the ground. All of the wonders of life and death playing out before us daily yet we don't seem to really pay attention to it unless it comes too close. I confess that I've been living that way for my entire life. I can't say that I fear death. I am comfortable with my beliefs and believe that in some sense of the word we all go on, I don't see death as an end, but that being said, I am in no rush to experience physical death. I'm one of the odd ones that wants to live to be 100 or so. The thought that I might make it was challenged by cancer, but I knew that I would heal. And I did, I continue to be stronger and better daily. At this point I am preparing to return to work.
So why all of the examination of the end of life? In the past two months, I have had three deaths that profoundly shook me. Two of the members of my support group and the death of Steve Jobs. Oddly enough it was the death of Mr Jobs that shook me the most. No, I'm not a crazed Mac user and morning the loss of potential new products from Apple in the future, It was how he handled his cancer. When diagnosed, he opted to take a completely natural path, believing that he would cure himself. This sounded all to familiar to me. It was in my own head for awhile with one difference. When diagnosed, I was ok with the surgery to remove to tumor. I wanted it to be gone. I was not, however, willing to follow it up with chemotherapy and radiation. It took my partner, Ken and my whole family to basically tell me that I was being crazy to finally convince me to do the therapy. I finally made peace with it and went on to use natural healing, herbs, juices and acupuncture to restore my body from the surgery, chemo and radiation.
Had Steve Jobs had family and friends like mine to convince him that he was nuts, he may still be here today. I am grateful to have survived and am saddened by seeing a like minded individual, especially one with such an extraordinary mind, perish. The two members of my group hit hard as well. One gentleman, who had cancer of the esophagus (the most closely related cancer to my own) died not from the cancer itself, but from a blood clot in his brain. The shock of his death knocked me down for awhile. Here was a big healthy man, with a great attitude and love of life just...gone. I had missed a few group sessions and found out when I returned. The group had had time to process it and I remember just sitting there in shock all night. It made no sense. I found myself getting angry on the way home. This is not how it is supposed to happen. He was supposed to be a success, like the rest of the group. We are survivors and winners. We are the heroes of the cancer community. We don't die! But as I found out that night, we do. Just a few weeks later I found myself attending the funeral of another one of my group. I woke up just this morning with the mariachi band playing it's mournful tune that was played when they brought her casket into the sanctuary. The entire service was in Spanish, but as I discovered, grief knows no language. It was clear in the tears and the shock of loss on the faces of the mourners in attendance. After the funeral, I practically ran from the church to my truck. I ended up at Target shopping for nothing. I just wanted to be around people not dealing with death. I didn't want to be dealing with death, but here I am. This isn't the first time. The eighties, were an entire decade of loss for me. Starting with my first partner Tim, and ravaging my community. I still remember living in shock, wondering why I was still here. I made stupid decisions like not paying taxes because I believed that I was next. I had attended over fifty funerals before I decided not to attend another one. It would take the loss of my Grandfather ten years later to get me to attend another one.
That decade also served to deepen my faith in God. If I was supposed to be here it must have a purpose. God must have some plan in store for me. I am supposed to do something with my life. This was the knowing that allowed me to survive cancer. It made no sense that I would survive the loss of practically every friend and associate that I had only to die of a tumor in my tongue some twenty years later. I believe that to this second. And while I can't really see what the plan is, I know there is one. I believe that my life has purpose.
All I can say about it now is wait and see.
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