Some Thoughts On Mortality
A few months ago, I received notice of my 58th high school reunion. I was a bit puzzled, as the reunions had been occurring every five years since our 40th. I wondered why we were having this one a bit early and then joked to Alenda that perhaps it was because the reunion committeee feared there would be none of us left in another two years.
Alenda and I attended along with forty-seven others. At some point a member of the reunion committee spoke and confirmed my suspicion. She shared that between February and June of this year, five members of our class had passed away, and the committee reasoned “why wait”? I agree with their sentiments.
In one corner of the room was the poster that is shown above. Sixty names are on the list, roughly 1/3 of our graduating class. Of course, there are probably more than that, as some classmates have not stayed in contact with the reunion committee. As I looked over the list, I recalled my high school experiences with many of them. I had known some of them quite well, and others not so much. A few I did not remember at all. I only dated three girls in high school. Two of their names were on the list of the deceased. The third, I am glad to say, was Alenda, still very much alive and well with me.
Ironically, while in our home town, Alenda and I needed to attend to some details regarding our cemetery plot, further reminding us of our age and our mortality. I do not fear death, but I am apprehensive about the probable deterioration of mind and body that will occur before it. Some of this has already occurred, but so far I am blessed to be able to do everything I want, albeit at a slower pace than in years gone by.
A few years ago, I read a book by Atul Gawande titled Being Mortal. It was of great interest to me then, as I interacted with my dad in the final years of his life. Gawande offers great insight into the aging and dying process. I highly recommend it to both people of my age, and the ones who will be our caretakers. One aspect that I found fascinating was trying to balance safety with quality of life. Doing the things we have always enjoyed (such as driving) becomes unsafe at some point. When do we give up these things? No easy answers.
As I ponder how to wrap up this musing, I recalled the following scripture from the first chapter of Job. “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” The good Lord has blessed me richly in this life. I expect to continue in some form after my physical death, but I have no idea of what that will be like.
