I had a long week. I went to Berkeley to visit my love interest this past weekend. That was wonderful. He is wonderful.
Unfortunately my grandfather passed that Saturday morning. It was strange being apart from my family when it happened. All the same, it was nice to be there of all the other possible places I could be (he consistently makes me smile). So instead of flying back to Santa Barbara, I flew to Pittsburgh for a funeral and a week fewer of Americorps hours. I couldn't help thinking, why does death have to be so complicated?
It shouldn't be. In many ways, I feel like death is more complicated than birth. At least when a person is born, everyone celebrates. They think it is this beautiful thing. All the potential for hope and beauty in the world lies in this tiny body of a baby. It's wonderful. The politics of the parents involved are forgotten for a moment, sometimes forever, as this new life is enjoyed and loved.
Death is not so easy. Instead, the politics of your life become entombed as you are interred. For example, in my beloved family, my grandmother did not make the best choices. She married a total of three times. The first man, my aunt's father, she divorced. The second, my father's biological father, died when my dad was only 5 months old. The third, my other aunt's father, died this past Saturday. He was the man I called 'Pap.' Now, my dad's biological father was idealized in my grandmother's mind. He has remained so, even to this day. Even after 50 years of being married to George she still talked about Barney. She even discussed having Barney's remains dug up and buried on one side, George's placed on the other, and her own buried in between. As you can imagine, this didn't go over very well with George.
Now, don't misunderstand. My grandmother loved my grandfather. She still loves him. It just was never the same kind of love she felt for Barney. This idealized love has had it's repurcussions on the living. It made my dad the favorite and my aunts second best. It made me special whereas the other grandchildren, while all loved, were held in a different kind of regard. I won't say I was the favorite, because I don't know that I was. I only mean that I was treated differently because I was Barney's blood.
It is only after my grandfather died, and my grandmother had left her apartment for a nursing home that we were able to begin to process some of the mystery of my grandmother's relationships and my grandparents' choices. We found death certificates and photographs, rings and pendants, notes and records. It was a great lesson. The whole ordeal - the different grave plots (while Barney was buried near a nice tree next to my great uncle and great grandparents, my grandfather was buried near a busy road, where my grandmother will join him) the mess left with the survivors - it was all a lesson on how to live.
Live so that you don't leave a mess. Live so that you die how you want to die, leave things you want them left. Live so that you know exactly what is happening to your body once you're gone. Will your possessions (howeve meager they may be) to people in a witnessed legal document. Leave this world at least partially on your own terms - yes you don't have too much control over how you die, but you DO have control over what people will deal with when you do. Leave plenty of stories for loved ones to tell at your service. Make sure they give you the proper send-off, whether it's drinking IC Lite at the Italian American Club, or it's burning incense in the Japanese Tea Garden in Balboa Park, just make sure people know what you want.
Do the right thing. Don't make other people miserable because you can, make people joyful because you want to! Honor your preferences. Appreciate the people whom you love. Admit when you've been wrong. Settle differences. Have lots of parties. Eat wonderful food. Make lots of love to your partner. Nurture your spirit. Listen to music. Play outside. Dance at every opportunity! Sing! Do whatever it is that brings you a sense of fulfillment and peace. Keep a journal to let generations after you know what went on inside of you as you lived.
I have to say that once I grew up I began journalling consistently. I started choosing to do things because they might be the only chance I will ever get to do them. I started making a commitment to going after my dreams and taking care of my needs. I decided I wasn't going to do something just because someone else wanted me to, but only to ever do something if it fits in with my purpose and my needs. I try to tie up loose ends whenever I can. Leaving things incomplete is a recipe of disaster that I will not follow.
There are a lot of things we can do to make sure we choose life. There are a lot of things we can do to make sure we make the best possible decision for our lives. Examine. Explore. Savor. Be careful, but do not be overly cautious. Fear can keep us from the most amazing experiences of our lives. I'm going to keep visiting that guy in Berkeley. Why? He enriches my time, every moment I am with him or talking to him he adds value. That's the kind of decision that yields good fruit, which when planted will yield a beautiful orchard. Sounds like a good choice to me.
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