Being a Blessing

It is one of the inevitabilities of life that the older we get the more accustomed to death we become. Now that I am in my 60’s, most of my friends and clients are also in their 60’s, which means that each year I hear of death and disease far more often than I did 30 years ago. This past year has been especially difficult in this regard, having lost four dear clients over the past 8 months. By now it should not surprise me, I shouldn’t be so shocked by mortality...but I still am.

Far too many times recently a grieving widow sits across the desk from me at my office clutching a tissue as she sorts through the relentless stack of paperwork authenticating her loss. Whatever words of mine intended to encourage fall flat. I try not to make it worse by saying the wrong thing or something too flip, desperate not to make matters worse. It is not a skill that improves with practice. I am just as halting and awkward now as I’ve ever been around grieving people.

I hate to admit such a thing, but when the deceased was a difficult person...its easier. There is a part of me that thinks that some sort of divine justice has been served. I know that this is a horrible, judgmental notion, but it comes anyway. What’s far more difficult is when the loss is some wonderful, loving and caring human being. The person sitting across the desk from me is not anguished over the fate of their loved one, just devastated by longing and overcome by the prospect of life without them. Their faces are darkened by the specter of loss. The financial problems that my work solves offers them no cure for loneliness. 

My friend with cancer recently received great news after her surgery...no cancer found in her lymph nodes. But her cancer is a relentless and persistent enemy. Her doctors want one more year of chemo to guard against its return. So she will face it because she wants to live, has so much to live for. She fights with grit and tenacity. I cheerlead with stupid jokes, feeling more and more useless as she plows on valiantly through every setback in her path.

Why does it all make me so angry? What right do I have to anger in the face of mortality? It is the way of the world. People are born and people die every single day. The important part is what we do between these two events. I know this in my head, but when presented with death and dying, a part of my heart rages at what Dylan Thomas called...the dying of the light.

My dad used to tell me that my goal every day should be to “figure out how to be a blessing to someone today.” In other words, every day we live should count for something more than merely making a living. Life should be so much more than pursuing our narrow self interests. Some days are easier than others. Dad was a natural at being a blessing to others. For me it takes intentional effort. But in this season of life where it seems each day brings fresh news of loss, it’s more important than ever for me to get the hang of this being a blessing business. People are depending on it.