Friends are leaving us
In the past year Kay and I have lost eight good companions who have moved on to a better place and left us here trying to learn how to cope with losing them.
These were friends we walked with in different places and different times as we learned from each other how to follow Jesus, love one another, and care for others. And there are quite a few others who we have lost in the years previous to this one.
A while back, Frank Consalvo asked me what I was learning in this phase of my life about losing ones we love. He thought it would be helpful to note some of the thoughts I have received from the Lord and other people – so here are some of them. There are certainly a lot more things that I have to learn about this and one of the reasons for jotting down these ideas is to receive more and better ideas from my friends who read this.
Anyone who knows us also knows that this is not an attempt on our part to tell anyone else what they should think or feel as they face this issue. But perhaps some of these ideas will also resonate with others. And more than likely those reading this will have insights that will be helpful for us as we continue to process this phase of our lives.
Kay and I have been physically close enough to watch some of these friends as they have finished well. And we have heard much about the others as their loved ones have walked with them in their final days.
A couple quotes describe how well those leaving us have done this:
“Those who enjoy life most, strangely enough, seem to let go of it with the most grace. Every moment of life, including the final one, is a gift—a chance to appreciate, to grow, to connect, and to give back.” ~ William Falk
“This is how to grow old. Allow everything else to fall away until those around you see only love.” ~ The Me I Want to be by John Ortberg
I am not sure how our friends were able to do this in their final days. I would like it to be true for me as well. Perhaps it has to do with no longer seeking and grasping things like material goods, praise from others, or any other kind of accomplishment.
The Apostle Paul wrote that he learned how to be content. What is the secret of learning how to be content? Ruth Halley Barton wrote that Moses learned to be content when he grasped that the presence of God was the Promised Land. All the “Promised Lands: we seek pale in comparison to the presence of God in our lives. These other things we seek fade in importance when we experience more deeply the presence of God.
Another thing I have observed in those who finish well is that they stayed involved in the lives of others – even when strength and energy are lessened. When I look back over my years I know that my enjoyment of life – yes, I can even say my joy in life – has come as a result of caring more about others than I do myself. So why wouldn’t that be important right through to the end of my life? I may get “tired” in the process of loving and caring for others, but I don’t want to “retire” from it.
Another insight that has been helpful to Kay and to me: At the memorial service for Mary Jane Dellenback, her grandson, Jess, made a comment that was both insightful and profound. In essence, he said to the two hundred or so of us who had gathered, “I don’t know most of you but you are here because you knew my grandmother well. Your presence in her life helped her become who she was. Who she was has become part of my life. So in a way I am connected to all of you because of your influence in her life and because of her love and care for me.”
I used to think “We get them back” when the pain of loss diminishes and the good and sweet memories remind us of how special were the days we shared together on earth. Actually, we never lose them because as Jess pointed out they are part of our lives in all the ways their love and care for us has shaped who we are. What we get back over time is a greater awareness of the ways they have shaped us for the better. Many times over the years of lost companions I have thought: “that’s a John thought,” or “Bill would have done it this way.” Or “Tellelyn would have brought gentle love to that needy (somewhat obnoxious) person.”
Kay and I recently watched the four hour documentary of the life of Jackie Robinson. It was a wonderful story, not only of baseball and the impact he had on the civil rights movement, but also of the deep love that he and his wife Rachel shared. When he died of a heart attack at age 53 her loss was profound. At the end of the documentary she was recorded as saying, I miss him so much. I miss the freedom we had to talk about everything together – even hard things – with an ease and completeness. And I miss his arm around me. He was so expressive.
We have yet to experience the loss of a spouse, or a child, or a grandchild. As we have walked with others who have gone through this we know that this is a pain that is far greater than anything we have yet experienced. Years ago, Roy Thompson was talking about the loss of his son when his son was 26 years old. I mentioned this in an earlier posting, but Roy’s insight bears repeating. He said: “It’s like losing your arm. You learn to function without it but you are always aware of your loss.” And as special friends have left us we miss their physical presence. To not see them, or hug them, or to hear their voice is like losing part of who we are. It does help to realize that because of the history of our deep friendship they are imbedded in our lives and they are still helping us become who God wants us to be.
This is a thought that also helps when walking with friends with memory loss. My initial desire was to try to help them remember – to get them to say things right so we could get back to what we had experienced in our companionship. But as I am learning to value all they have been to me in our past friendship I don’t have the need to try to drag them back into that time. I can enjoy the memory of all we have had in the past and I can love them and respond to them even in this murky world that makes little sense to either of us.
And it has also been a way to value those friends who are in different parts of the world who we seldom see — in fact, since they are in different parts of North America, in Europe, and in several countries in Africa the probability is that many of them we may not ever see again. But even as we can celebrate that because of what we have shared with each other in the past we also are still imbedded in each others lives helping us to become who God wants us to be.
I have also seen that what Paul wrote to his friends in Philippi, “I long to depart and to be with Christ, which is better by far” rings with truth. Kay and I saw it in the passing of our long-time friend, Edna Kenagy. At 98, her ability to engage with the world around her was diminished and she was ready to move on. When her daughter, Darlene, called to tell us that Edna had passed a couple days after we were with her my response was: “Yay!” because I knew that was her desire. So I am learning that we can celebrate both the life of our friends, but we can also celebrate their death – which is the grace of God that frees them from the struggles, pain, and disappointments of this world. This is a pretty new thought and I am still pondering what it means to celebrate the death of one we love.
As Kay and I have discussed our own passing the following quote says well what we desire:
“It ought to be possible to talk with one another about how we want to live when we are dying. It ought to be possible to resist the temptation to make an idol of medicine, and instead to recognize it as a useful tool, sometimes for cure, always for care. The vast majority of people want to be at home; in the company of people they know and are known by. They want access to hospice and palliative care. They want to have their dignity respected and their pain controlled. They want to cherish the time they have left and devote it to people and to experiences that are meaningful to them. It ought to be possible to die well.” ~ Margaret Kim Peterson in September-October, 2015 Covenant Companion
What are you learning in this life transition that we all deal with from various perspectives?
Kent and Kay, I look forward to reading your musings. We have missed seeing you in person, but reading your thoughts helps us to feel like we are together in the Lakeside Lounge up at Mount Hermon! I will definitely pass this on to others as this is a theme that touches us all. Blessings to you both and we really hope to see you sometime this year! We send our love from Mexico.
Beautiful, Kent. Thanks for this.
Thank you, Sandy, for letting us know what you are experiencing in your journeys. May you receive all the grace you need to keep moving on. Love, Kent and Kay
Kent and Kay,
Your email was so timely and so right on. Thad and I lost our oldest son Trip unexpectedly in April, 2015. Because he was to be the executor of our estate we have been faced with redoing our wills, trusts, medical directives etc. we have employed a corporate trustee to handle thing in the event of our deaths. Lots of changes in our live. We even have a special needs trust so that Bradley will be taken care of, but won’t be able to access the principle because of his on going addiction to alcohol and drugs. It has been painful.
Both Thad and I have worked on our own memorial services, hymns etc. This is usually a difficult topic for people to face, but we would rather have things in order.
We just celebrated Trip’s first birthday in heaven on Saturday as well as our 50th wedding anniversary. It was a bitter sweet day. The blessing is that Trip knew Jesus and served him with all his being. We were blessed to have him for 48 years. Love to you and Kay, Sandy
Thank you, Kent and Kay… these are important thoughts we find unthinkable mostly out of fear. Thinking THROUGH them with you both, in some ways, helps to pull the stinger out. There is tremendous beauty in suffering the wounds of separation from our friends. They have helped to shape us by the very act of our having chosen to be attached to them. When they leave us, what remains is their shape forever imbedded IN us. Whenever it comes — however painful it will be, and I know it will be — there will be with it, the sweetness of that shape of their loss always at my side. That painting of the wounded tree says as much. There is tremendous beauty in wounds that Jesus heals with such compassion and creativity.
Having gone through the 80’s holding hands of friends as they passed from this world and then helping my aunt, uncle and both parents pass on within a 5 year period I have come to accept death as part of the process of our journey. Each elder family member prior to their “passing” voiced and expression of travel…either thinking we were going on an ocean liner or being in another country or having to “pack for a trip.”
As a child my parents discussed openly about death and dying. There was never a notion of fear or cessation of being. There was hope and a continuance.
I have been fortunate that the majority of those close to me whom I have l”lost” came at advanced age or the escaping of a horrible and fatal illness. There was always a sense of peace and yes joy upon their release.
Now, one of my “kids” at the young age of 23 is dealing with an aggressive leukaemia. I find I cannot be at peace at the possibility of his “passing” but have hope in his courage and indomitable spirit!
I have come to recognize how important is the time I have now with those close to me. To cherish our time together rather then regret misspent opportunity upon their passing.
After saying all this I would be remiss if I did not say how precious was the time you and Kay spent with a troubled teen almost 50 years ago that remained a “lighthouse” of inspiration not forgotten.
I have never been good at saying, “Good-bye” to those I love, whether they were moving away, or we were graduating, or they were going to be with the Lord. Long before I was a Christian, my idea of heaven was to have all those I love around me, and no good-byes ever.
Recently I’ve been impacted by the book, “Being Mortal,” as have many of my friends. It’s a lot about the choices we make as we decide about “life-saving” medical procedures. Do we value “life at any cost” more than quality of life? This author/doctor’s perspective seems so helpful to me – discerning what are the important aspects of life for us, while we’re here on earth, rather than “let’s do everything medically possible” to prolong life.
Reading thoughts from dear friends here for the 3-4 time, and again after reading the insightful additions by so many. So helpful as I continue to form thoughts and plans for how I continue to love and care for my mom . . . how I relate to friend whose mental capacities have diminished . . . how I care for the caregivers amongst my friends . . . how to get creative in relating when abilities to communicate are diminished, etc. I’ll come back to this and read again, I’m sure! Thank you, thank you! Much love!