Day 27

On Death and Dying
I am again enjoying the delightful 'divine conspiracy of accidents.' This Sunday morning's scripture is John 12:20-36 from which we hear, "Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life."

As a pastor, our practices around death highlight how our culture acutely seeks to deny death. Though not in my own experience, I know that some in our congregation remember how families used to care directly for those who died. Washing and dressing the body, they would hold wakes or viewings parlors in their homes instead of having professionals do the washing and dressing, and occasionally having viewings in funeral 'parlors.'

My grandmother's funeral was the first I attended. At twelve years old, my aunt walked me from my seat to 'go see Mammaw.' There she was laid out in some dress I'd never seen her in, wearing make-up I'd also never seen on her. "Doesn't she look like herself?" my aunt asked me.
I was pretty sure this was one of those questions I wasn't supposed to answer. So, I didn't.

Then she took my hand and laid it on the hand that had belonged to my grandmother. I don't remember what my aunt said. I just remember thinking how cold and waxy feeling that hand was. I remember thinking, 'that used to be my Mammaw, but it isn't anymore, and it's a good thing, because I don't think she'd like being in that cold body all dressed up wearing makeup.'

I've has the difficult, but sacred privilege of being with families as they witness the death of their loved ones. Sometimes I've been the only one in the room with any similar experience. Occasionally there are questions: "Is it ok if we touch them?" "Should we leave the room?" "Are we supposed to say anything?" "What happens next?"

I've noticed that the people who seem most comfortable at death's arrival fall into two categories: those who have previously seen death come to others and children. I have my theories about both, but they're just theories. Suffice to say, it takes a significant amount of training to learn how to deny death. Until then, it's just part of life.

May we learn the richness of life by letting go of our grip on it, and as poet Mary Oliver writes, may "want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:/what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?"