I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately.
I know that sounds incredibly morbid, but last weekend I finished reading An Untethered Soul by Michael Alan Singer, and one of the last chapters of the book was about death.
My sister mentioned that death is one of the great equalizers of life.
We all will die.
Rich, poor, young, old, black, white, male, female.
None of us are exempt from death.
Singer says the same in his book.
He also wrote that we shouldn’t fear death but see death as a teacher, a daily reminder of how precious and short life is.
Reading this reminded me of a line from the last Harry Potter book, The Deathly Hallows (2007).
Hermione, Ron, and Harry were reading a wizarding fairy tale called “The Tale of the Three Brothers” about three brothers who cheated death.
The spirit of death, who was angry about being cheated by the brothers, gave each a gift of their choosing to congratulate them.
Each chose what they wanted and left.
The first brother wanted something out of his selfish ambition — a gift that would give him more power.
The second brother wanted something out of his loneliness — a gift that would bring back someone he loved.
The third brother wanted something to allow him to live peacefully without being followed or found by death.
The first brother believed that he could defeat anyone with his gift and was invincible but was eventually killed by another wizard because of his selfish ambition.
Although reunited with the woman he loved, the second brother realized she was not the same woman he had once loved. Overcome with sadness and loneliness, he committed suicide.
Lastly, even though death searched everywhere for him, the third brother could not be found until he had become old and decided he was ready to be found.
It’s the last line of this story describing how the third brother died that keeps reverberating in my mind,
“And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.” (p. 409)
Growing up as an Indian Pentecostal, I was raised in a community that delivered mixed messages about death.
On the one hand, our faith taught us that we should not fear death because if we accepted Jesus as our Savior, we would be in heaven.
We would end Sunday services clapping and singing the song “When We All Get to Heaven” real excitedly or quote the scripture, “Death, where is your sting!?”
But, let’s be honest, some of us were scared of dying.
Not everybody in that church building thought, “I hope today’s the day I get to go to heaven!”
I don’t care how much we say we loved Jesus — not everyone was excited about dying, going to heaven, and rejoicing with Jesus.
I guarantee many of us were singing that song like, “When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing it will be…..but God, if you can make sure I get to experience A/B/ and C before that happens, I’d really appreciate it.”
God forbid you ever admitted that out loud cause that meant either you didn’t accept salvation or your faith was weak.
On the other hand, I was also raised in a lot of fear.
Fear of getting sick, having ailments, or taking real risks because what if something happened?
Always err on the side of caution.
Don’t take risks that will completely upend your life.
Don’t live life to the fullest.
Live it safely, by the rules, predictably, and with no surprises.
Why take any chances?
And if you were unfortunate enough to get sick, there was no room for hope, faith, or rational thinking — only panic and worry.
(Disclaimer: that only applies to me, so if that is not how you were raised, please know this was the mentality with which I was).
In An Untethered Soul, Singer wrote that we have no control over when death comes or who it comes for.
We do not even know if we will even have our next moment.
Life is one big crapshoot, really.
We either get the next moment, or we don’t.
We don’t get to make deals, barter, or even cheat death like the three brothers in the story.
That truth didn’t hit me harder than this past week when I received the news of the passing of a young man.
He was a beloved son, great big brother, loving husband, amazing dad, and a dear friend to many.
Although I didn’t have the privilege of knowing him personally, his death was unexpected and, quite frankly, unfair.
No one can ever prepare for losing a loved one — whether suddenly, after a long battle, or old age.
The loss isn’t more or less for anyone affected.
Grief knows no bounds.
After hearing the news, I spent the week wrestling with and questioning God: about his death and my own life.
I wondered if God may have moved too fast.
Did He make a mistake?
I felt a little like that Cardi B meme where she screams, “WHAT WAS THE REASON?!” because that’s what I kept asking God.
What was God’s reason to take him now?
I just need to know the reasoning behind it.
If I was given a reason, a logical explanation, then maybe I can wrap my mind around it a little bit more.
I am not saying I would be happy about it, but I can at least accept it because God gave me His reasons.
Without reason, it just feels unfair.
How did God conclude that he had lived long enough and accomplished everything he needed to on earth?
His daughter is still young — he didn’t get to see her go to prom, graduate high school, go to college, or walk her down the aisle.
He had only been married 18 years — he didn’t get to grow old with his wife and play with his grandchildren.
Why did God decide this was enough of life when he still had more to do?
In fear of God’s wrath for questioning Him somehow, I reluctantly acquiesced that God is sovereign and knows what He’s doing.
Nor does He owe me any explanations or reasons.
He is God, and I am not.
The bigger question then became, what have I made of my life?
At the funeral service yesterday, his brother said something about him that I keep thinking about. He said, “My brother was so rich. Not in money, but in love.”
Can people say that about me?
Have I lived a life that was full of love given and received?
Have I left the mark that I was hoping for?
Has the world been changed in some small, positive way because of me?
Will people feel my absence?
Or will more people attend my funeral to make sure I was gone?
Will they feel more relief than grief?
If this is my last hour/day/week/month — am I living my life as the person I should be?
Am I living my life, not just WELL, but with intention?
Do I love fiercely?
Am I being kind and gracious, understanding, empathetic?
Or am I wreaking havoc, burning bridges, and leaving others in pain and heartache?
I am reminded of my paternal grandmother, who passed away in 2012, and my uncle, who passed away this past September.
I have memories of and with both of them and loved them so dearly.
But what moved me most at both of their funeral services was hearing how they impacted others.
How they brought joy and laughter to people’s lives, stories about their generosity and kindness, or the extra mile they took to show compassion to others.
Can the same be said of me?
What is the ONE change I can make every day to ensure that I am living my life well and with a purpose?
What keeps me from being the person someone can say changed their life so that they’ll feel the loss?
I did not know the person who passed away as well as many of those in attendance did, but I still found myself crying as I listened to what others had to share about him and the legacy of love and light that he left behind.
Singer wrote that death should not be what challenges us to “live life at its highest level.”
We should already be living life at the highest level.
And that’s why I wonder if that’s what I’m doing?
Am I living my life at the highest possible level?
If not, how do I change that?
What can I do differently so that when the day comes that death comes for me, I too will greet death as a friend?
