Death, Life, And The In Between

My friend Dianne's Dad passed away yesterday. She and Chris are here this week, in anticipation of this happening. Today is their day of dealing with estate, lawyers, funeral arrangements and all of the little things that go with the legal side of dying. It reminds me of the line, "I you like someone, remember them in your will. If you dislike someone, make them the executor."

Of course the passing of Dianne's Dad has triggered a lot of thought in my when it comes to my own demise. I want things kept very simple. Peter, my brother, as executor of my estate, has the full power to do whatever he thinks best. I trust him. Since there will be little or no money left, a funeral, especially an expensive funeral, is out of the question. That is in line with my wishes, so it's a good thing. What I really want is for my friends and family to gather at my apartment, drink all my wine and liquor, empty out my freezer, fridge, and pantry, and throw a hell of a party. My children should have first choice of any of my possessions, although there is not much.

I find it interesting how varying people react to death. As you would expect, family members go through the greiving process. Then again there are situations like mine, where greiving is almost an ongoing process. For others, there are two questions they ask almost without fail. "How did he die?" "How old was he?"

The "How did he die?" question is more of curiousity than any need to do some sort of emotional autopsy. The more interesting thing is the need for people to know how old someone was when they died. It's important. It helps us put a death in perspective. If someone dies at 91, that makes sense to us. We all want to live that long. When someone makes it that far, it encourage us, reminds us that we have that chance too.

Then there are those who die "young", giving us pause to wonder about our own longevity. This is such a relative term. There are very active people who die in their 70's, and that seems young, especially when life expectancy in Canada is 82. I will likely die at age 62 or, if things go very well next year, 63. In today's world, that is young, young enough that I won't make it to pensionable age. It is these deaths, the abnormal ones, the ones which fall outside of our expectations which give us pause, causing us to remember that life is fragile, that life can be lost at any time.

Death comes to all of us. Our lives are limited. It is the way of things, be it early or late. The best any of us can do is hope for a peaceful, painless passing after a long and productive life. Yet we have no control over this. Fate is inexorable. It weaves a path for us, and then we die. This is life.