Mortality is a strange thing. We're here, then we're not. Our friends and family are here. Then they're gone. We focus a lot on things that impact us while we're alive, as we should, to make our lives more interesting and enjoyable. Outside of rare conversations on spirituality or religion, many people spend little time thinking about saying good-bye or preparing for what is inevitable, aside from taxes. It's a strange thing that death is actually one of the more important parts of life, after perhaps birth, and just like birth we have little to no control over when it takes place. We have some control over ourselves and our lives during the interim period between birth and death, though. Maybe that's the point?
Two things occurred in the last week which started me thinking about mortality and specifically my own mortality. They were both events which get most people thinking. First was a discussion with my in-laws about their end-of-life planning, as they have now both passed their mid-80s. Second was a notice that a classmate from high school had died, not someone I was extremely close with, though we had a relationship which had recently ended poorly.
The conversation with the in-laws was entirely wrapped around typical discussions of where they'd like to go, and how we'd handle it all as a family. Financially, structurally, and in terms of various responsibilities. Nobody likes to view themselves as a burden and my in-laws are the most active 80+ year olds I know. Sharp mentally and physically, and always up to travel (having just returned from Europe not too long ago). We didn't spend any time talking about the preparations which would occur afterward, nor would we really want to discuss events which are far too morbid for anyone as vibrant and vital as they are. So it was about making their life as enjoyable and meaningful as possible for themselves and their family, to optimize their lives and the time they have left with the family.
The second conversation was vastly different, though it was ostensibly about the same topic - mortality. When the notice that the classmate had died suddenly and unexpectedly came in (embolism) - I wrote to the few classmates I still converse with to let them know, and it sparked a few phone calls.
The tricky thing is my high school experience was not good. The few people I still communicate with were close friends or people I barely knew who I connected with later and, as adults, patched up the messy adolescent stuff we went through. I don't look back fondly on my teen years. As time passed and other classmates died, their deaths were a blip on my radar but not something which captured my attention. It's not that I disliked them or didn't care, I just didn't know them.
I did know this classmate. We were friendly my senior year, we reconnected after he got out of the military, we shared a lot of similar values and several good conversations over the years. Then, the last few months, his behavior became erratic and accusatory, and we ended the relationship on relatively poor terms.
Suddenly, a few months after our last (very depressingly bad) conversation, he was dead.
The conversation which took place was with another classmate, who I barely knew in high school, but connected with at a reunion. She was stunned, and while our email exchanges are usually about film, TV viewing and various topical social items, she reached out asking to speak since email simply wouldn't help. I spent an hour on the phone with her hashing the sudden imposition of finality into our otherwise workaday lives. Death and finality, these personal emotional things weren't something we typically discussed. Yet it's also something which can bring distant people together and find common human threads.
We'd both had similarly bad teen experiences, we both were friendly with the deceased classmate, we both shared similar views regarding various members of our class and how the time changes people. We agreed that as bad as some were or had been, we were adults now and that's all just adolescent BS that we're well past. The deceased, however, had been friendly with us both and it seemed so sudden that she was struggling with the news.
Perhaps I struggled less, because her view is "my father died at 65, and I'm 4 years from that, and while other classmates are gone, this was unexpected." My reply was most death is unexpected. I didn't mean that to wave her feelings off, it's just the reality. The expected deaths are often a blessing in some way. The unexpected ones are more common and take us off guard.
She knew the deceased better than I did, and my main concern was the disappointing finality of our last conversation. She explained there were several things I didn't know about - which explain a bit of why he'd become erratic and irrational. I don't know if the embolism played a role, nor does it matter. However, she and I agreed we want to end things as well as we can, as often as we can. That's just not always possible.
It was here that I wrapped up our call around my in-laws' conversation and said "I guess we have to focus on the things we have some control over, and try to make them as enjoyable and manageable as we can. It doesn't solve anything, but it does help make the time we have easier on ourselves and others. Having a positive outlook and trying to approach things without negativity is critical."
Shortly afterward, another friend texted me, saying he'd read an article about an "Elderly man attacked at local store" - the elderly man was 63. He said "I'm 61, and I'm not elderly. But maybe we're all just fooling ourselves. By my calculation, we hit the downward slope about 20 years ago." Speak for yourself, brother, ha! We wound up talking about a few other people we were in school with and I mentioned someone who was 4 years younger, saying "He's a good kid" only to realize he's 57 and hardly a kid. It says something, I'm not sure what, that he's still a kid in my memory. I hope he thinks of himself as a kid.
We are what we feel we are, and what we believe we are. That's a good thing. We have to draw positivity from inside ourselves, so continuing to think ourselves young, rather than elderly, is rejuvenating. 61 doesn't have to be elderly. After all, my Art teacher from high school just turned 99 and she flew up from Florida to meet some former students. There's a lot of life left, at any age, if we allow ourselves to enjoy it.
I will opt for my in-laws point of view and realize I can plan to make the most of the time I have left. They are among the last few of their own high school clique. They've gotten messages like the one I received many times. It's sad, maybe a bit disheartening, knowing how close to the target that news hits. Someday, someone will get that message about me. Hopefully they'll have fond memories, and a few stories to tell, as I did for my classmate. While I hope my relationships will end on good terms I know they can't all end that way - but I'll hold the memories on the best terms possible.
