I enjoyed a nice visit with my longtime friend, Dan Pasini, yesterday morning. We shared our thoughts on a variety of topics, but one particular thing he said was on my mind when I woke up this morning. He mentioned that of all the people he and I know in common, he is the only one who still has a living parent. I think he might be right.

Dan had asked me how I was doing after the death of my mother. I appreciated his asking, and I was grateful to be able to tell him that I’m doing well. How blessed I was to have Mom in my life for 68 years. How blessed I was to see a woman continue to grow spiritually and emotionally into her ‘90s. How blessed I was to have the opportunity to walk the journey with Mom in her final weeks. Yes, I’m doing well, thank you.

It’s no secret that, for so many others, death comes prematurely. Even as I write this, I question my use of the word prematurely. While there is much I don’t understand about life and death, I believe that God has a plan for each of us. This makes me realize that a person who dies in their thirties, forties, or fifties has not necessarily died prematurely. This word simply means that, for those of us who are coping with the loss of a loved one, the person died before we were ready to say goodbye.

Mom did not die prematurely. Even my Dad, who died at age 82, did not necessarily die prematurely. His death was sudden and unexpected at that time, but his death was inevitable. I only considered it to be premature because I wasn’t prepared for such a significant loss at that particular time in my life. 

I came across an interesting quote this morning. In his book, The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief, author Francis Weller discusses how we might respond to the loss of a loved one. He wrote: 

“We may be able to honor the losses
and live our lives as carriers
of their unfinished stories.”

My first thought, upon reading this, was that my mother had no unfinished stories. She lived a full life, complete with countless joys and sorrows. She died less than a month before her 93rd birthday. Unfinished stories? Well,… yes. 

Should Mom have lived to the ripe old age of 100, which is something she had no desire to do, she would have continued to do what she did. And what did she do? Throughout her life, and even into her final days, she cared about people. She treated people with kindness. She empathized with the losses of others. She listened intently as people shared their stories. And, from time to time, she imparted little pearls of wisdom for those of us who are still trying to find our way in this world. In other words, she was quite busy!

Anyone who is grieving the loss of a loved one has the opportunity to honor that person by continuing the good work that person did in their lifetime. By consciously doing this, we might be better able to embrace the grief — and honor our loved one.