Tuesday, February 24
“The Gift at the End”
…then the Lord God formed man [“adama”–the human one] from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being. Genesis 2:7
One of the people I’ve admired most for his wisdom, understanding, compassion and undiminished passion for life, Oliver Sachs, recently learned that he has very advanced cancer and will likely be dead within a matter of months. At 81, his curiosity and enthusiasm remain in full bloom; having published five notable books in the last 15 years, his autobiography will be published in April. If he weren’t about to die, you might say that he’s in the prime of life. In response to his diagnosis, he says, “I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.”
I remember with clarity the feeling I had when my father died, as I spent time with my mother, brother and sister in the days which followed, that the purpose of death is to help us appreciate the incomprehensible preciousness of life, and to bring those of us who remain closer together, if only for a brief window. It was a time of heightened intensity, of shedding things that didn’t matter, and of letting down inhibitions around showing emotions. My conversations with my siblings, in particular, have never been deeper. How much more intense this sense of precious gratitude and fat cutting must be for one looking her or his own death square in the face!
I would imagine, were I in Oliver Sachs’ shoes, that every conversation I had would become a sacred conversation, regardless how mundane the subject matter. Were I to bite into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, how I would savor it, knowing that its familiar but freshly experienced taste might be one of the last sensations I experience. But if I had a choice, I would want most of my meals, and most of my conversations to be extravagant gourmet affairs, where, surrounded by my closest friends, nothing was wasted, and following the main course, we indulged ourselves in deep red wine, unlimited dark chocolate, and wild dancing.
But here’s the thing: We’re all looking death square in the face every second of our lives. The trick is to live like we know it; to speak every word as if it mattered; to cut away the fat; to connect; to know that every conversation is a gift, and is sacred.
Giver of Life, help me live with the knowledge that death sits on my shoulder, and that is part of the gift of life. –Willie Sordillo