Mortality Thoughts

With the continuing pains in my chest and the loss this week of one of our Ventura County community heroes, Mr. John R. Hatcher, III, I feel compelled to write about the great mystery facing us all, death. People close to me will tell you that I am a bit morbid because I talk freely and openly about death. Maybe that’s because I’ve had several very interesting experiences with it over the years.

First, I am not afraid of dying, I’m just not ready for it yet because I have much more work to do and people to love.  If I had my choice, I would live to 85 like my friend, Mr. Hatcher, loving family and friends while fighting for justice each and every day. As if I could choose the when or the how.  But I have my preferences.  I know that I don’t want to go in an airplane, car accident, fire, or through an act of violence.

My problem with death is what dying does to people. I don’t like the trauma and grief caused by the physical separation it imposes upon people who love each other. I say physical, because the emotional connection remains with us through our memories. I can transport myself to that feeling of comfort I had while lying on my mother’s lap that New Year’s Eve as a 10 year- old when I was very sick. I can relive the joy of spending an entire day shopping with her in the mall and taking a break to people watch and still chuckle to myself. I still hear her advice and her admonishment when I need it. For two years after she passed, my nightly dreams of her were so vivid that I thought she was somehow still with me. I’ve also had several unusual experiences that help shape my view of death.

Several days after my mother passed, we were looking for her will. I’m very organized, but somehow the will was not tucked away in a file with other important papers as it should have been. I was frantically searching my house when I heard her voice in my head as clear as if a person was standing physically beside me. She said, “It’s upstairs in your bathroom in the second drawer.” I thought to myself that this was totally improbable, but I wasn’t having any success, so why not check there, too. Thinking I would be methodical in my search, once I entered my bathroom I put my hand on the top drawer to open it. My mother’s voice ( her annoyed voice ) said, “That’s not the drawer I told you!” I immediately shut the drawer and opened the second one. There was the will, inexplicably wedged into the left side of the drawer.

I believe our bodies are just a shell or a tent that houses our spirit (life force) and our soul (willful, genetic, conscientiousness). In my early 20’s I had an out of body experience in the dentist’s chair that so scared the dentist that he would not let me tell him about it and he stopped using laughing gas in his practice. From a high corner in the room, I saw my lifeless body in the dentist chair and only reentered my body when I realized that my death would mean separation from my young daughter. I don’t know how long it took them to revive me, but I saw them working on me and in a strange dispassionate way, I contemplated how angry my husband was going to be when he sued them because I died in the dentist chair from an overdose of nitrous oxide.

The point is, I don’t see death as an end. As a Christian, I enjoy believing in heaven. I am comforted by the thought that I will enjoy eternity with my Lord and family members who passed before me.  But as a curious person, trying to make sense of the strange phenomena I encounter in the world I sometimes wonder about re-incarnation. Some people seem to be old souls, possessing   abilities, knowledge, and wisdom that seem unnatural, like they have been here before and are simply picking up where they left off. And as a person who values science, I would be fine if this was all there was and we are simply recycled star dust.

I’ve prepared my estate for death because tomorrow is not promised to anyone.  I have a living trust, a will, insurance, and all the medical instructions.  If there is a body to deal with when I pass, then I want it to be cremated. My colleague found it morbid when several years ago, I asked our campus pastors to conduct my memorial service, just in case. I really like them and I appreciate their way of doing things.

I’ve lived a Christian life, loving God and my neighbor. I haven’t intentionally hurt anyone and have sought forgiveness and change when I’ve learned that I’ve done damage. I’m not afraid to face the day of judgement. My life is  fulfilling in love, work, and play. I’ve seen and done what I enjoy and I’ve tried my best to make the world a better place. If when I die, heaven awaits me, then yay. But I don’t feel the need nor the desire to return to this earth for another go-round if reincarnation is the deal. I think I’ve lived the life required by the reincarnation enthusiasts to earn rest. I’d be fine with being part of recycled star dust, too.

The point is, I would want my loved ones to celebrate my life and to be comforted with their memories of our times together. But not anytime soon.