A Different Kind of Near Death Experience (Part 1)

This afternoon I sat for a bit beside Marv, dying. For us who easily forget that we too are dying, it is good to sit near death. We talked about it, and the full life preceding. He wants me to tell the truth at his memorial service, something he has sought to do throughout his long life. Even if it is “bad,” he said.

Will there be more pain? It depends. Perhaps not, if the cancer stays in his liver. But he already feels it in one lung, he thinks, and also started in the other. And he’ll take “whatever the good Lord gives.”

I drove out Fries Lane (an appropriate name given to this good neighbor’s side road, though forced a few years ago by the County’s 911 map naming craze) feeling the nearness of death. Even if I did just turn only 60, even if I do live another 39 years to match my own dad, I want to stay near death.

Life is great, but its meaning comes only with death. There really is nothing “good” about the Friday in Holy Week. Except that “Sunday’s a comin’”!