My grandma passed away yesterday. When I tell people that I always get, “Oh, I’m so sorry. How old was she?” She was 109. People are quite amazed and pleased to hear that someone can live that long. I can’t help but wonder if they are really determining for themselves, how sad the situation is. If someone lived to 109, then they were lucky. If someone died at 40 or 20, it’s such a shame. Their life was cut short. It should have been longer. Based on what exactly?
I sometimes think that in some way we are really wanting to get some affirmation that our own death is far off and not something we need to worry about. If someone dies at a young age, we want to know what happened, in part, because we want to make sure it doesn’t happen to us. Where does all of this fear of death come from? Our own doubts of the afterlife? The fear that we didn’t accomplish a significant life while here on earth? As Catholics we believe that all life is a gift from God and is precious. That theological truth therefore doesn’t change based on age. God sees each soul, regardless of how long it has been in a body on earth, as equally perfect and valuable.
Now enters our vantage point where we don’t see things as God, but through our human selfishness and doubt. Ask yourself how your reaction changes to someone who lost an 8 year old son versus a 109 year old grandma? Or maybe a three week old fetus? If God sees all of these lives as precious and equal, maybe it’s time we try to think that way too. I’m not in a rush to die, but I don’t want to live fearing death either.
If I really believe in life after death, and I compare my time here on earth to my time in eternity, then why am I so worried? Does it really matter if I die at 60 vs 80? Just typing that, every ounce of me is saying, “Die at 60? That’s only 12 years from now? I still have so much I want to do! I’m not ready!” I guess my will to live is part of God’s design for me. It gives me purpose and drive to make something of myself with the time I have. I wonder what my grandma would think about all of this. Did she feel more blessed living to 109 than my dad, her son, who died at 72? Maybe how long we live on this earth isn’t really the measure of your blessing after all. Maybe it’s the love we’ve received and shared while we were here. Maybe I should worry less about when I’m going to die, and focus more on how I’m going to live. How can we make sure we are living deeply with purpose and grace?
1 comment:
I know that is a stock photo showing the progression of life from cradle to grave, but is there one that shows life from conception to grave? Perhaps one more icon at the beginning showing a dignified mother carrying a child?
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