Death seems so final. In many ways, it is the end of a life. Biologic functions cease (brain wave activity stops and the heart stops pumping) and preparations are made for final remembrances. But is it the end?
Close to a third of the world’s population, as Christians, seek solace in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. Other religions project significant impact of the deceased on the remaining kinfolk and social connections. So, while we acknowledge the biologic end of life, we search for memories and meaning in such events.
Death is inevitable but occurs in so many ways. It can be tragic – prenatally, at the time of birth, neonatally, in childhood, in adolescence and even adulthood – in ways that are unimagined and so unexpected. These deaths are sudden, accidental and more often than not deliver quite a gut punch to the loved ones.
Car accidents, school shootings, and lethal diseases (cancer, birth defects and other diseases) have led to childhood deaths that I have studied or witnessed and shared grief with the families. These deaths seem so difficult to process for the families and those of us that care for and about children and their families.
Wartime, currently at the forefront of the news, leads to so many deaths that seem so senseless and unnecessary for the alleged political objectives stated. Diplomacy breaks down and political leaders often seek a violent forceful way to achieve their desired results. I am not saying the wars have been totally unnecessary. Stopping Nazi Germany and the Japanese Empire in WWII were necessary. So many conflicts can be debated as the needless result of failed talks but suffice it to say that death is a logical consequence of armed conflict and so many of those deaths are the innocent victims of the conflicts. Children are especially prone to the devastation of war, either by their own death or by the death of caregivers or the destruction of the support systems that sustain their well-being.
Deaths in adulthood are still difficult. Lives cut short by accident or illness or by the end of a long life are still difficult to handle. We can accept some of these situations but each one is unique.
Let me add a recently acquired perspective about death after reading Theo of Golden by Allen Levi.1 Two passages from the book deal with a discussion about death, and I think it is fair to say that five simple words have a dramatic meaning. And a simple substitution of an article changes the meaning profoundly.
- The first passage involves the main character, Theo, engaged in a conversation with the bookstore owner and Vietnam veteran. The latter relates a story of a close compatriot who tragically died of wounds suffered in battle. As he finishes the story, he notes that that is the end of his friend. Theo quietly adds something to the effect that “perhaps, but it might be an end with a future.” Note how the article “the” was substituted with “an.” That simple juxtaposition changes that phrase from a firm statement to one with possibility. Instead of the tragic death of his friend being the end to an end, the statement now signals a death…one with a future. That future might be defined by one’s religion or faith. Theo was emphasizing that the bookstore owner can still pay homage to his fallen friend – by honoring his memory with service to his fellow citizens. The life of his fellow soldier ended but the future of his service and those knowing him can be directed to the service of others. In such a manner, his death was not the end but an end with a future. A beautiful memory.
- At a memorial service near the end of the novel, a similar scenario occurs. The life of a devoted servant to others ends yet those gathered are asked by the minister to recognize the life as an example that can serve to be perpetuated by others. Yes, there was an end, but the future is bright for those willing to serve others.
I have seen too many pediatric deaths in my career over 44 plus years. I seriously questioned how that could happen at times. Why, why, why? My faith was challenged.
I subsequently realized that faith goes beyond my immediate understanding. The “end” of these lives too soon was “an” end (not “the” end) with quite a future to come. That future had yet to be determined but the memory and legacy of those lives stood to be exalted in the time ahead.
So, from a biologic standpoint, death is the end of a life. But I now realize that it is an end with a future. It is our duty and responsibility to honor those who have passed with words and deeds that are impactful in their service to others. In that way, death is not really an end but is the future for those of us still living.
- Levi A. Theo of Golden. Atria Books; 2023. 384 pp.