This weekend, as I sat with a friend looking at photos of her 5 year old nephew who died last year after a lengthy cancer battle, there was no point to holding back the tears. He will be mourned and remembered and celebrated by his family for generations. For those who loved him, there is nothing that will explain or make sense of his death.
And yet, the fact is that children do die. Every day. And so do young parents, and emerging geniuses, and insanely talented people who could make a difference for good in the world. My mother used to tell me that the death rate, no matter what anybody says, is 100%. For me, it is that certainty that life could end at any moment that makes it so very precious.
Those that have died too young, or with unfinished work, or before they had a chance to explore their talents offer a challenge to those of us who live: don’t waste a day; explore this world; take it in. My daughter’s death is a challenge to offer the best I possibly can to the world on her behalf; my mother’s death is a constant reminder that my own death is a certainty.
To say that I miss them does not begin to express my daily loss of their companionship, but it is also true that their deaths have increased their impact on my life. Exponentially. They live on in me, and where ever they have gone, I will be heading to in time. Even the longest of lives is short.
Who knows? I have no idea how life and death go together or how we are all connected to each other. But I do know that death, especially death that seems out of order, offers a connection to eternity and a challenge to those of us who remain behind. The challenge is beyond painful, perhaps some days beyond exploring, but somewhere in that challenge is everything – everything - that makes life worth living.
