LIFE’S UNDERTAKINGS EVERYTHING ALWAYS If we were all operating with 100% of our good nature and sense of humour, I’d inspire a chuckle if I confessed that Psalm 23:4 is my favourite, especially when times are tough, which they are. Don’t know the verse? I bet you’ve heard “the valley of the shadow of death.” That’s Psalm 23. Some (more southern) undertakers love printing this “I will fear no evil” rallying cry on their business cards. Before judging us as terribly ghoulish creatures, consider what type of person is called to funeral service. For those of us operating in the realm of dying and death, deep faith is a professional prerequisite. How else could funeral directors, much less other “final responders” like palliative care doctors, hospice nurses, and death doulas ever reconcile the beauty and the sadness of birth, life, death, and letting go? Despite almost 30 years of undertaking, I still struggle with baby deaths and those tiny white caskets. I still struggle watching young children attempt to absorb that their parent is never coming home again. And despite our grief-avoidant society’s wish it were true, there is still a terrible struggle when burying the old and infirm, which is not easier or more natural, especially in the time of Covid. Loss is the powerful equalizer that can bring the strongest and cruellest person to their knees as they attempt to alchemize sorrow and sadness into some form of meaning. Forget existential angst about bad things happening to good people. Death forces us to dig deeper and question why we are even brought to life if our final task is leaving all that we love. Deep faith, whether religious, spiritual or a blend of both, is not just a job requirement for people whose life’s purpose is helping the living by serving the dead. A belief in a higher power, or at least a bigger picture, makes us more resilient, compassionate, and steady when life threatens to drain us of joy, peace, and belonging. If you’re resilient, you bounce back quicker from loss and disappointment. If you’re compassionate, you live longer and happier. And if you’re steady at the wheel during life’s storms, you’re a guide to safe harbours. Even as I write that, I think of my funeral home’s baby parents and shake my head. How does one ever “bounce back” from losing a child? They don’t. But the parents I’ve had the privilege and honour of watching as they move from their
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knees to their feet are men and women who believe their child’s legacy is love. Right now each of us is challenged to live from a place of loss or love. When loss of reputation, rejection, adverse circumstances, lack of approval, or other people’s negative behaviour result in hardship, none of us really grows or deepens in faith. “We’re all in this together” are just words unless there’s a level of comprehension that we all want the same blessings from life: love, dignity, freedom, respect, safety, belonging. Now that my wife and I are teaching our kids at home yet again, I’ve discovered the poet Roethke (I have zero idea how to pronounce that name) and his tortured wisdom: “In a dark time, the eye begins to see.” We are living in dark, lockdown times. Yet each of us chooses what to see and whom to become as we navigate strong weather. Perhaps facilitating close to 11,000 funeral services has prepared me for the fallout from 2020 but not for the reasons you think. You see, I’m rarely surprised by people’s behaviour during times of great sorrow and joy. The people who are kind, sentimental, and a touch tipsy at a funeral will behave the same way at a wedding. And if someone is offended and outraged at a funeral, trust me – they’ll find a reason to spread unhappiness at a wedding, too. Dark times show us, and others, what (or whom) we put our faith in. Sadly, the majority of people don’t contemplate what they are to the world until they’re about to leave the rest of us behind. No, not because they’ve won the lottery and are moving to Mars. When end of life is near, people are either content with or terrified by the life they are leaving. My intention as this second dark year drags on is to see beyond the finger-pointing and screaming about lockdowns, mask-wearing, and “to be or not to be” vaccine rollouts. I’m making a point of interpreting events and issues with my eyes and heart wide open. Yes, some days are better than others; we all have our inner angel and our inner demon kicking around inside our skull-sized kingdom. But with the springtime stakes so high, coupled with the systematic push to turn us on one another in the name of the greater good, I am desperate to indulge my better qualities. I want to model deep listening, responding not reacting, and keeping my mouth zippered shut if I have nothing nice to say or can only offer up a complaint rather than a solution or blessing.
ETOBICOKE LAKESHORE PRESS
