Last week we had two deaths in our neighborhood that took us all by surprise and saddened us deeply. Last Monday our dear friend and former neighbor, Roman Patt, died in his sleep at age 52. We learned that he had spent his last day at Solitude with friends, hiking and enjoying a meal - with no sign that anything was amiss. He had a heart condition that he was on medication for, but no one expected him to die, least of all his two children who had lost their mother 11 years ago in a car accident. Roman was full of life and knew how to enjoy it. No, there are many others I would have imagined were much closer to death than Roman. I attended his memorial gathering on my 50th birthday. I am in much worse shape than Roman was, so easily that could have been me . . .
On Thursday morning, my birthday, at a school bus stop in my neighborhood, a little four year old on a bike was hit by a car making a left hand turn just after the bus pulled away. The mother was there to watch after putting an older sibling on the bus. She is our stake YW president. The injuries were so severe, the little boy was pronounced dead in flight to the hospital. The teenage boy driving the car was her neighbor and friend and in her ward.
The 1st Counselor in our Stake Presidency spoke in our sacrament meeting about it. He related how inconsolable the young man driving the car was. He told how the second counselor met with the parents of the little boy and the young driver and how the father had wrapped his large arms around this young man to comfort him, and reminded him that this is what the atonement is for.
A 50th birthday, not to mention two deaths in our neighborhood have served to cause some reflection on my part. Somehow it always takes us aback when someone dies. It is as though we forget that each and every one of us is going to die (unless we live during the millennium and are merely changed in a twinkling of an eye). Sadness and grief are understandable - but shock is something I think peculiar to our generation. We live in an age when the advances in medical science are so remarkable, we literally expect to be cured, or resuscitated and brought back to full health no matter what the illness or injury. Even though we see death portrayed on television, or perhaps because we see people die on television and then later they appear on another show - alive and kicking - our perception is all warped.
I have walked through pioneer cemeteries where three, four or five family members died within months of each other - presumably from some illness like cholera or the flu! Back then, when someone became ill, people understood that it was very serious and their loved one might die. Recovery was the exception rather than the rule. My grandfather, born in 1886, was a little sickly as a baby. Family lore says that they didn’t name him till he was three because they weren’t sure he was going to live - well, I know they named him, but in his baby journal his mother always referred to him as baby, till he was a little older.
I had my first big loss when I was 22. My father died of cancer at age 61. He was not a member of the church. I had been married not quite a year, and had a new baby when we drove from Idaho to Ohio to be with my dad. I had no concept of death and prayed daily he would recover. It wasn’t long before I realized he was only getting worse day by day. So I changed my prayer. I prayed I could go with him into the spirit world to see the look on his face when he realized there was life after death. I didn’t need to see what he saw, just the look on his face. I knew it was a silly prayer.
Father answers silly prayers too. The morning my dad died, the last thing he did before breathing his final breath was open his eyes after three days in a coma. Mom came wailing my name through the house and I passed her in the hall as I ran to my father’s bedside. He was gone. But I saw the look on his face. I did not go into the spirit world with him, but the spirit world came to him before he died and he saw it or someone and opened his physical eyes to see it. Then, a couple months later, he visited me in a dream. I knew it was his spirit because the look on his face was amazing. There was a peace on his countenance that I had never seen while he was alive. He told me everything was all right. I had never thought of my father as troubled. He was a cheerful man. But the contrast between his familiar physical appearance and his spirit was striking. I realized that Daddy had dropped all his burdens.
I thought then, and have recalled a number of times over the years, that if Daddy could drop his burdens, perhaps there was hope for me. Then came the thought, if I am going to drop them someday, why not now? That was my goal at age 22. Now I am 50. I’ve failed miserably at my goal. Now I realize I am very possessive of my burdens. I cling to them protectively.
It doesn’t seem to matter if they are great or small. I know it is pretty universal to hang on to our burdens. Our fears, our disappointments, our resentments, our failures, our regrets, our offenses, our injuries, our guilt,our humiliations - yep - we do a pretty darn good job of strapping those puppies on and carrying them with us for years, decades and half centuries on end, often wholly unaware, we are so used to them, that they are there and removable.
I admit, after Dad died, I became very interested in studies about the spirit world and near death experiences. Before that, it wasn’t something I thought about much. But the reality of my father’s death made me very anxious to understand what happens. I have quite a nice library on the topic. One of my favorite books of all time is “Life Everlasting” by Duane Crowther. Another one I have gotten more recently is “Glimpses Beyond Death’s Door” by Brent L. Top. I got them out again, after last weeks trauma (which included other things as well, not mentioned here). I read a series of statements by people who have died and been revived, of how it felt when they passed through the veil and met the “being of light” or whatever they called it. Mostly they said words can’t begin to describe how wonderful it is. The love, acceptance, peace, contentment, sense of belonging, wholeness etc is like the best thing you can imagine times a trillion. That’s what one woman said.
It occured to me that perhaps what is felt is the reality of the atonement. The price for all the pain we cause and that we experience is already paid for. But we don’t comprehend that here. Perhaps we finally begin to experience it as we come through the veil.
It is all well and good to contemplate these things. Day to day life demands our focus and very very quickly we lose sight of any semblance of an eternal perspective. Thank heavens for the Sabbath. Thank heavens for the Sacrament. Thank heavens for General Conference. Thank heavens for the temple. Thank heavens for the scriptures. Thank heavens for visiting teachers. And, thank heavens for trials that make us stop and think.
If by their fruits ye shall know them, I say, we have all the proof we need that this is truly Christ’s church. The blessings that come to me through my membership I cannot begin to count. And no matter what is wrong in my life or in me, I KNOW I am better because I am a latter-day saint. I hate to think of who I would be without these blessings. I also know that generations past are counting on me - have been awaiting decades and centuries for me to finally be introduced to the restored gospel to begin the work of securing their eternal welfare through family history and temple work.
My mom joined the church three months before she died at age 83. I have one sister who joined the church, but hasn’t been active in 25 years. So I still feel kinda lonely in my membership. I may have total confidence - aka FAITH - that there is life beyond the veil - but for the most part, it is only faith - not a LOT of knowledge - a little, a few distinct moments that have been quite profound - when the veil got thin enough for me to see for a flash beyond it - but for the most part, I rely on faith. And I know, thanks to Roman, who was a half Jew, half Catholic, Polish Israeli American who refused to buy into any kind of faith, that faith is not automatic - for many many people it is not something they can embrace - so I now appreciate my faith as a tremendous gift.
I would have liked to see the look on Roman’s face too . . .
~Debra
