Lasting Gifts

Living with Intention, Dying in Peace - Shannon Harder Ronald and Kim Ebert-Colella

death and dying

Wait For Me. I Will Be With You.

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I was in California when I got the call. “Come now. Auntie Anne is in the hospital.” This was my 95-year-old great aunt who was childless. Throughout my life I felt loved by Auntie Anne. We shared a close bond.

 Auntie Anne had often talked to me in her later years about her fear of dying alone. As her memory faded with age, she continued to voice this fear. I always assured her that I was only a phone call away and I would be there in reality a phone call and a five-hour drive. But at some level I felt that this wasn’t a false assurance, but part of the journey that would unfold someday.

 So there I was when the phone call came: in California, further away than if I was home. My heart beat fast; my mind went blank; I hung up on the airline reservationist in mid-scheduling because I could not hold back the tears any longer. I was paralyzed.

 In the midst of this confusion, I went outside and started talking to Auntie Anne. “Wait for me. I will be with you.” The peace and clarity that surrounded me were pure gift.

 Ten hours later, I was at her bedside. From midnight to dawn it was just she and I, vigiling through the night, awaiting and preparing for the next part of her journey. I held her hand, recalled family stories, enjoyed sitting in her presence, and dozed off and on.

 This life of an amazing woman, a daughter of pioneers, an artist, a businesswoman and cattle rancher had come to this simple end as the breath of life eased out of her body. The afternoon of that day, Auntie Anne died in my arms. My assurance to her from many years before had come to fruition. It was not necessarily of my doing, but was the gift of grace and the act of following my intuition.

The last hours of Auntie Anne’s life were a symbol of our relationship. Somehow, both of us knew we were connected at a deep level. She had exactly 50 years on me. She was my lead: she turned 70, I turned 20; she turned 80, I turned 30; she turned 90, I turned 40; she turned 95, I turned 45. And in her death I realize ever more deeply our kindred spirits. To walk in the steps of this woman is a treasure for me, and will continue to be a grounding touchstone for my life.

–Shannon

Family History

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Eberts 3 (18)

I cannot pretend I am invincible. My family history reminds me that I will die. My father had a massive heart attack and died at age 54. My brother suffered a debilitating heart attack at 47. My mother had a massive stroke at age 54; her mother at age 48; and her mother at age 45. Seeing this history on paper helps me to stay conscious of my vulnerability to heart disease.

I made a promise to my son that I would do everything I can to keep my body healthy. If I am to be true to that promise, then I must take seriously my need to exercise regularly, eat heart-healthy foods, and maintain a heart-healthy weight.

Having a written family history is a gift to me. This history also gifts my son, so that he will know his genetic vulnerabilities.

Explore and record your own and your family’s medical history, then take some time to sit with it and see its messages. What does your personal and family medical history have to teach you? Recording your knowledge and observations can assist your children and their children in navigating their own health.

-Kim

 

Final Celebration

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Some have said that the funeral is for the living, not for the dead. I believe that the more the funeral or memorial service reflects the one who has died, the more healing and meaningful it is for those who are left to grieve..

A few years ago my husband, Niko, and I went on a date to plan our funerals. Though it may not sound like a very romantic date, we had a profoundly beautiful evening together. We went to a favorite, cozy tea house, armed with our favorite holy books and a hymnal from our church. After ordering tea and dessert, we each took some quiet time to think about the readings and music that had meaning for us. From those, we chose the ones we most love, or which most convey our feelings about our life, our death and our faith.

As I began to reflect on my funeral, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my life and for each person I imagined gathered for my final celebration. I wanted my funeral to reflect that deep gratitude. I therefore chose readings and music that spoke of the wonders of living on this earth and the precious gifts of friendship and family.

As Niko and I shared our selections, I was surprised by the results. None of the readings Niko had chosen were readings I would have chosen for him. One of the passages I had never before read. I gained new insight into my husband that evening.

In addition to readings and music, we shared with each other who we would like involved in our service, who we would like to do our eulogy, whether we wanted to be cremated or buried, where and how we wanted our ashes scattered, and to what organizations we wanted memorials to be donated.

We wrote down our choices for one another as a guide to planning our service. We left room for creativity and for the needs of those who will be grieving. And yet, there was enough recorded to truly reflect our spirit in the service.

As you reflect on your final celebration, who would you like to have involved? What readings and music have meaning for you? What symbols, flowers or rituals best depict your spirit?  Record those answers in a Lasting Gifts Manual, so that when the time comes, your loved ones will have a base in which to create your final celebration.

-Kim

The Remembrance of Death

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“Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die.”

-The Rule of Benedict, Ch. 4

 Death became my companion when I was 15 years old. My dad died suddenly of a massive heart attack. A year and a half later, my mother had a stroke and we were told that she would not live five years. Although she beat the odds and lived over 30 more years, death became a constant part of my life.

Every decision to travel or move brings the realization that Mom may die while I am gone. The gift of these experiences is that I have lived my life embracing the reality of death, allowing it to propel me forward.

The process if completing the  Lasting Gifts manual is an opportunity to engage in the practice of the remembrance of death. I believe, if we really embrace that we are going to die one day, we will live our lives more fully. If we live knowing that each moment or each day may be our last, then we are less likely to get stuck in the small stuff of life and to savor that which is true and real.

When I sit with my own death, I think of my husband, Niko, and my son, Sam. If I die today, I want Niko to be able to focus on his own grief and to be there for our son. The best way I can help him with that is to have things in order to make the transition as easy as possible.

The many forms in this manual may seem daunting.
Breathe into the places of your resistance,
then choose a section and begin.
This is your remembrance;
your gift to those you leave behind.

-Kim