Monday, January 11, 2010

The Everlasting Connection

Most people do not have to live very long before they know of death. For people living in very difficult places, such as war zones, high crime zones, or very unsanitary zones, death seems to be at their elbow constantly.

For those of us living in modern western society death seems more removed. But really, it isn't. It's just more invisible to us as we don't see it quite so often.

But grandparents pass on. Aunts. Uncles. Eventually, parents. And of course we all know those who died before their time. Died young. Accidents. Disease.

It is when a young person dies that we struggle the most with death, I think. Although if we have been especially close to the the older person who has died it really isn't any easier when it happens. But there is a wave of emotion which sweeps over us when we learn of the death of children. It's like we feel they were somehow cheated, and it wasn't fair.

True, they have been cheated. But cheated of what?

What is it about living here that makes not experiencing it so horrible?

There was a time when I had quite a list to answer that question. But as I have aged I have pared off more and more line items. And as I have come to feel my faith in God and an afterlife grow into something more real to me I have come to pare off even more.

I have had my share of people I care about die. Not as many as some, I know. In that I have been far luckier than them. But I know the pain of loss. Daddy. Stephen. Lynahr. Grandma. Cile. There have been babies, teenagers, young mothers. It hurts. It always does.

But I have come to realize that those who die and move on to whatever it is in the afterlife are only cheated of one thing that really matters: us.

If the afterlife is all we like to believe, then why feel sorry for someone who gets to live it? The baby didn't get to grow up? And experience what? Racial, sexual, religious, caste, financial bigotry? There are things that are good in this life, but there are a hell of a lot of things that really suck. Illness. Injury. War.

If heaven is what we believe it to be - and yes, I do believe it is, and more - then even a baby missing out on this life has to be happy.

It's like when Jesus was going to cross to die. He told the weeping women to stop weeping for him. His time of suffering was about over. Life was about to get very good for him. "Weep for yourselves," he said. Why? Because they would be without him.

And that's the real reason we weep when someone dies. We are less concerned with what they will miss out from not being here than with us being without them. That's the real pain of death. Losing someone and not being able to find them again. You see, we all know the rule: we're not supposed to seek out death. We're to let him find us when it's time. To encourage us to obey we have all been given a sense of self-preservation. Otherwise, when someone especially loved died, those who especially loved them would simply follow.

The worst thing about babies, children, and young people in general dying is that we miss out on seeing them grow up. We miss out on experiencing their joys with them. We miss out on showing them love and comfort when things go badly for them. We don't get to share their lives. And that is true of older people who die, too. We want them around to share our lives with us. We want them to see our laughter, heal our hurts and wipe our tears. We don't have that when they die. And it hurts.

We get angry at God and say he was cruel to them to let them die. But the truth is, we are angry because he was cruel to us. He took someone we loved. And now we feel so alone.

I do not believe there is any scripture to support it, but I personally believe that God acts as a mediator between those of us who remain here and those who have gone to be with him. I don't think they can see or talk with us directly, but I do think God keeps them informed of what's going on in our lives. And I believe there is scripture to support their talking to God on our behalf.

The love which connected us when we were all here together remains. And I believe it still connects us. Why/how else is it that people can really feel the presence (sometimes) of those who have died? I think it's love. Like water seeping through the soil, love will ultimately find a way to bridge the distances. Until such time that we go to be with them again. And then others will wail and moan about how cruel God was to take us. And then we will seek to use our love to keep us connected with those who we left.

Probably not scriptural at all. But somehow I don't think I'm that far from the truth.

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