The Gift of Than

This is a different type of post, but then it’s been a different kind of week.

The past several weeks I have been helping a friend prepare for her wedding. Set in the country, it’s part medieval, part midsummer night’s dream and 100% magic. Anyone that thinks magic just happens is clearly on the receiving end only.

By the end of the week, my feet and back ached and I was worrying about having the right clothes to attend the various events. I was so weary, I had half a mind to just pass on most of the festivities. Then I received an e-mail that the son of two people I work with had died that afternoon.

Than had battled cancer for 13 years. He went from late adolescents to adulthood trying one treatment after another. And here I was whining about a few aches and pains.

My thoughts quickly shifted. I felt so sad for my friends, who dearly loved their son. Who cared what I wore to these various functions? What mattered was being present to honor the bride and groom. Ultimately, a few aches were a small price to pay to see the smiles of the couple and their respective families and friends. Thank you Than for this reminder.

Years ago, when I was attending a hospice workshop, we were given a copy of “Final Gifts.” Written by two hospice nurses, the book provides a wealth of information on the dying process and how much the living can learn and be given if receptive to the “gift” of a loved one’s passing. My initial reaction was, “you’ve got to be kidding me,” but it has proven true time and again. In fact, the person running the workshop explained that her husband’s death, while the hardest gift she had ever received, was still gift.

The second “gift” I received from Than came in the form of a quote from one of the people we work with. He too had an adult son die. He wrote the following about attending the funeral or visiting the family. Unfortunately, having lived thru this situation, I know that having friends at the funeral or in your home the following week, helps soften the pain that they are all feeling. If you can make it, I am sure that they will greatly appreciate a visit.

I have tried to explain to friends and colleagues why you show up for funerals whether you know the deceased or not. I couldn’t have put this any clearer and it’s a quote that I will distribute in the future.

In the e-mail relating Than’s passing, there was additional note from a friend and pastoral figure for Than. He spoke of how Than was savoring the moments he had with his family, at their home on a lake. He knows his body is failing him, but he also seems able to appreciate joy - the joy in the sunlight bouncing off the lake, the joy in the waves piling off the boats, the joy in the children digging a hole to China in the sand.

My final thanks goes to Than for reminding me to live in the present and find joy in what I have.