Zoe’s eating and activities have declined markedly since 14 January, just five days ago, when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She is dying.
Rather than just give up, we shall do what we can to encourage eating and walking. Today she will receive an injection to help control vomiting, and I may try the use of a syringe to give her some nourishment in her mouth. How accepting she will be, I do not know, for she refuses most food.
Every human being,every one of us, must experience a number of dyings and deaths in our lives, before we, too, “go the way of all flesh.” Dying and death surely are substantial parts of our human, creaturely condition. Still, for each of us, probably nothing is as heart-wrenching, as soul-searching, as caring for someone we love as he or she dies and “passes away.”
As I wrote yesterday, a substantial part of loving someone is suffering with them and for them. To refuse to suffer with and for is to refuse to love, and to refuse to love is to refuse truly to live. A great test of our love, and its purification, comes as our dear one dies. And our love is tested and purified after the loved one’s death, as we either remember them fondly and with gratitude, entrusting them to the Creator, for example; or we let them slip from consciousness into oblivion, as if they are “dead and gone,” and no longer of any interest to us. In such a case, one’s “love” has more of the aspect of use and self-centeredness. To love one’s dear friend even after he or she dies, and to do so with gratitude despite grief, is an act of love that grows closer to God’s love for each and for all, for such genuine love is not based on self-interest, but on grateful self-giving. I often recall the poignant words of Job when he lost his children, his health, and his property: “The Lord has given, the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” So speaks love. Words such as these, when genuine, are not said easily, lightly, or mindlessly; rather, they arise out of an offering of oneself and of all one loves to the divine or to “ultimate reality,” as one understands it.
As Zoe is dying before my eyes, I am aware of the commonness of death, and that virtually every one I know has gone through similar experiences. In the midst of one’s own sorrows, it is good and noble, and beneficial, to remember that each of one’s brothers and sisters, one’s fellow creatures, has undergone the same or similar experience. And it is good to be aware that what our dear one is enduring now, will be our own lot in the not-so-distant future. In the wisdom of St. Benedict, “Keep death daily before your eyes.” Why? Because in a sober awareness of death, one’s love is purified, and one must choose to affirm the goodness and beauty of life,despite its costs and agonies. And so we rise out of our narrow selves, out of our “own little world,” and enter the broader truth and reality in which all share. We become aware of, and affirm, our share in reality as a whole, not as we wish it to be, but as it is.
Words out of memory drift into consciousness, some from songs, some from spiritual readings or other sources: “I have loved you with an everlasting love…” My dear Zoe, my beloved little girl, I love you more than words can express. In this love, I want your happiness and joy and peace now and forever. In this love, my beloved Zoe, I gratefully yet so painfully surrender you back to the One from whom all beings come forth, and in whom alone one truly lives.
Thanks be to God, to the One who simply is, for allowing me to love and—to a limited extent—to know this wonderful, life-filled creature for a few years. Together here, dear soul, for eight years, with quiet joys and painful sorrows,and many changes and challenges neither of us planned. To me, Zoe, you have been a faithful and ever-fresh companion, a source of much laughter and at times a real test of my character and patience. You have borne with me, and I with you, despite our flaws and weaknesses. You have been an unforgettable companion on my life’s journey. For your fidelity and love, I thank you, and I thank the all-wise Mind, divine providence, that brought us together. No doubt I needed you as you are, and you needed me, and each of us blessed and benefitted the other. This love, engendered by our common sharing in the Creator, will never end, but our love is and will change. My desire is to love you more truly, more for your own sake, ever more gratefully. Peace be with you, dear soul.
Rather than just give up, we shall do what we can to encourage eating and walking. Today she will receive an injection to help control vomiting, and I may try the use of a syringe to give her some nourishment in her mouth. How accepting she will be, I do not know, for she refuses most food.
Every human being,every one of us, must experience a number of dyings and deaths in our lives, before we, too, “go the way of all flesh.” Dying and death surely are substantial parts of our human, creaturely condition. Still, for each of us, probably nothing is as heart-wrenching, as soul-searching, as caring for someone we love as he or she dies and “passes away.”
As I wrote yesterday, a substantial part of loving someone is suffering with them and for them. To refuse to suffer with and for is to refuse to love, and to refuse to love is to refuse truly to live. A great test of our love, and its purification, comes as our dear one dies. And our love is tested and purified after the loved one’s death, as we either remember them fondly and with gratitude, entrusting them to the Creator, for example; or we let them slip from consciousness into oblivion, as if they are “dead and gone,” and no longer of any interest to us. In such a case, one’s “love” has more of the aspect of use and self-centeredness. To love one’s dear friend even after he or she dies, and to do so with gratitude despite grief, is an act of love that grows closer to God’s love for each and for all, for such genuine love is not based on self-interest, but on grateful self-giving. I often recall the poignant words of Job when he lost his children, his health, and his property: “The Lord has given, the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” So speaks love. Words such as these, when genuine, are not said easily, lightly, or mindlessly; rather, they arise out of an offering of oneself and of all one loves to the divine or to “ultimate reality,” as one understands it.
As Zoe is dying before my eyes, I am aware of the commonness of death, and that virtually every one I know has gone through similar experiences. In the midst of one’s own sorrows, it is good and noble, and beneficial, to remember that each of one’s brothers and sisters, one’s fellow creatures, has undergone the same or similar experience. And it is good to be aware that what our dear one is enduring now, will be our own lot in the not-so-distant future. In the wisdom of St. Benedict, “Keep death daily before your eyes.” Why? Because in a sober awareness of death, one’s love is purified, and one must choose to affirm the goodness and beauty of life,despite its costs and agonies. And so we rise out of our narrow selves, out of our “own little world,” and enter the broader truth and reality in which all share. We become aware of, and affirm, our share in reality as a whole, not as we wish it to be, but as it is.
Words out of memory drift into consciousness, some from songs, some from spiritual readings or other sources: “I have loved you with an everlasting love…” My dear Zoe, my beloved little girl, I love you more than words can express. In this love, I want your happiness and joy and peace now and forever. In this love, my beloved Zoe, I gratefully yet so painfully surrender you back to the One from whom all beings come forth, and in whom alone one truly lives.
Thanks be to God, to the One who simply is, for allowing me to love and—to a limited extent—to know this wonderful, life-filled creature for a few years. Together here, dear soul, for eight years, with quiet joys and painful sorrows,and many changes and challenges neither of us planned. To me, Zoe, you have been a faithful and ever-fresh companion, a source of much laughter and at times a real test of my character and patience. You have borne with me, and I with you, despite our flaws and weaknesses. You have been an unforgettable companion on my life’s journey. For your fidelity and love, I thank you, and I thank the all-wise Mind, divine providence, that brought us together. No doubt I needed you as you are, and you needed me, and each of us blessed and benefitted the other. This love, engendered by our common sharing in the Creator, will never end, but our love is and will change. My desire is to love you more truly, more for your own sake, ever more gratefully. Peace be with you, dear soul.
