In 15 minutes I am leaving to take my mother-in-law to the airport. She is flying to St. Louis to attend the funeral of a sister-in-law. It's about the fourth time in a year that she's flown down there. Seems like all of her brothers and sisters and their spouses are dying.
I wonder how this reality will play on my psyche when it is my generation's time to go. When you're young, the thought of getting old and dying is so foreign. When I was young, most of my older relatives were living to really ripe old ages. When you're a young adult and someone in the family is 50 years older than you and they are still doing fine, well, it can leave you feeling immortal.
That's how I felt once upon a time. I was 20, then 25, then 30, then even reached 40 and I was fine. All the relatives were still living. But then when I reached 45, they started dying off on me. It just made me realize how all on the clock we are.
Something peculiar that I found myself doing on two separate occasions was saying a final good-bye to an old person that I knew I'd never see again. One person was my brother's father-in-law Sam, who was in his mid to late 70s and looked like the picture of health but who had terminal cancer. Sam was clever and quick witted, had been a college professor, and was a WW II veteran. According to my brother, he was a great story teller. I would see Sam perhaps once a year, at a kid's birthday party. On this one occasion, my brother had filled me in on Sam's pending fate, so that when the party was breaking up and people were leaving to go home, I shook Sam's hand and gave him a sincere "Good-bye, it's been great to know you." I didn't mean to be so maudlin, and I was disappointed in myself for making my sorrow so obvious. But Sam didn't catch on right away. At first, his reaction was, "Why so melodramatic? I'm only going home!" But then within a few seconds he realized that I was saying a final fairwell to him, and he gave a resigned "Yes, yes, good-bye." Of course, I felt like a fool for making Sam think about his ultimate doom.
The other person I did this to was my Aunt Sophie. She was not a blood relative, but had married my Uncle Al, who had recently died. Sophie was in her 80s and her health was diminishing fast, although she too had a sharp mind like Sam's. On this certain occasion, we were at a bbq at my brother's house. Same scenario, party was breaking up, people going home. Sophie was offering farewells to everyone, and when it came my turn I gave her a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek, and a solemn "Good-bye, Sophie." But Sophie was aware of what was going on. She knew her fate. I didn't catch her off guard like I had caught Sam. She gave me a thin smile and a knowing "good bye." Then her grandkids helped her to the car. Within a few weeks, Sophie was dead.
In my life as I play it forward in my mind, one of the saddest parts is having to say good bye to my three girls. They will be adults by the time I go (I hope I live another 30+ years!) and based on our lives together so far, I am sure that we will love each other for the rest of the time we have together. It just makes me sad to think that I will make my girls sad by delivering them the disappointment of my death.
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