Preparing for our deaths

My sister left the country without telling me.  I knew she was going to leave because my father had told me, but I kept waiting for a call from her to tell me herself.  When my mom told me they had taken her to the airport, I turned to Daniel, saying, “why didn’t she tell me? What if she dies while in Honduras? What if something happens and I was not able to tell her how much I love her?”

She is back now, and she is fine, but I am still thinking about this.  My concern is no longer that she didn’t tell me, but that I knew but did not call her to share in her excitement, to pray with her, and to support her.

In a book¹ I recently read for a class, the author discussed the idea of preparing ourselves for our deaths, and preparing others for their deaths, through the way we live our lives.

This sounds morbid, doesn’t it? My first reaction to this idea was shock, but then I started thinking about it more, thinking about the preparation for death.

When someone is on his/her death bed, the family and friends gather around the dying one, sharing favorite memories, laughing together, sharing love, finding reconciliation.  Essentially, the deathbed scene is one of bringing a rightness in relationship, of leaving no words unsaid.

So, through my daily living, I should remember that my days are numbered, and I do not know my number nor the number of days for anyone else. I should live in a way that brings a rightness of relationship in every moment. I should tell my family and friends often how much I appreciate and love them, and I should live in a way that demonstrates my love.

I should have called Rachel. I should have wished her well, shared in her joy, her passion for missions, and supported her compassionate heart.

It would be foolish of me to say that I will never again argue with my husband, have petty fights with my siblings, or allow tension in relationships. However, I should not allow these things to linger in the relationship, but should seek to clear the air and find peace in relationships.

Since we do not know the day or hour of our deaths, let us live in ways that prepare each other and ourselves for our deaths.

1. Ronald Rolheiser, The Holy Longing (New York: Doubleday, 1999), pages 90-91.