Whenever I visit our home in Pennsylvania, I have a feeling of being closer to nature, closer to the earth. That may have something to do with the fact that our windows face nothing but forest, trees, deer, and chipmunks. We don't hear the incessant cacophony of leaf blowers and lawn movers. Perhaps my age is showing, but the peace and quiet is comforting and the solitude is nurturing.
In recent months, I have been surrounded by news and reality about people in my life experiencing health issues (myself included) and the ultimate transition we all face - death. I don't think I'm anywhere near dying, but it has given me pause to think about how we all face life's last ultimatum.
Having experienced my beloved parents' transitions during the past two years, I had a first hand view into how well they were, or were not prepared for this passage. Most recently, I also was fortunate enough to observe a colleague who had been valiantly dealing with the ravages of cancer for ten years, whose courageous demeanor and bearing during the last month of her life was a model for all of us. All this observation provided some information about how I think we can all prepare for this eventuality.
All of us are born into this world with built-in obsolescence. That is, from the day we are "driven out of the lot," our minds and bodies begin to take on the appearance of every genetic marker and every environmental factor that our lives inherit and encounter. So, we are naturally vulnerable. Vulnerability.
How we choose to deal our our natural vulnerability is how we face our lives.
When I was younger, I never gave it a thought. I simply moved from situation to situation, illness to illness, diagnosis to diagnosis, taking the medication and doing my best to follow doctor's orders, including all emotional and mental episodes. Back then, I didn't see the cumulative picture of my vulnerability bucket, so to speak, not thinking much about it, just moving on. But I was very lucky.
I was the fortunate recipient of a genetic predisposition to be fierce. I wouldn't have characterized myself that way until recently, but looking back I can see that my knee-jerk reactions (that were often not carefully considered) were most of the time fierce retorts to my innate vulnerability.
The memory of my mother and father has helped me to arrive at this juncture where I can see that without a determination or a predisposition to be fierce in the face of life's ultimatum, we would all be victim's of our innate vulnerability. My father, without having the awareness to name it, was the fiercest person I have ever known. In the face of many major illnesses, he got himself up and honored his life, loved his loved ones and continued to be a creative and positive force for all of us.
My poor mother, on the other hand, was the victim of vulnerability long before she really had to stand up for herself at death's door. Her tough childhood along with a sheltered (of her own making) marriage, did not prepare her for the ultimate test - my father, her protector, died first. It wasn't supposed to happen that way.
