Most of us, I think, live with the utter uncertainty of
how long we’ll be alive in our current bodies. I think
our default, unless or until we’ve been diagnosed with
something fatal, or reach our late 90’s, is to pretend
there’s no deadline.
Then, for most of us, there’s a major medical flurry of
desperate measures toward the end in which we, and/or
our friends and family, mightily resist the inevitable.
My dear friend and next door neighbor John chose the
path less traveled. Already on home dialysis and the
transplant list when his cancer diagnosis came, he
decided against surgery. It would have meant spending
the rest of his life in the hospital.
Instead, he decided to spend his remaining few months
at home. On the July 4 birthday he knew would be his
last, he and his friends created “Johnstock,” our own
version of that historical event in the 60’s, complete
with live bands in the big field. He sang Arlo
Guthrie’s Motorcycle Song on stage–in full leather,
then rode around in his golf cart so he could hug each
of his “400 closest friends.”
-> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ylUnXMF1ZyY
We left the stage up, and it became a weekly ritual to
gather at John’s to sing, play music, and mostly to
love one another and this man who had given so much to
all of us.
We all knew that John had decided that when the pain
outweighed the joy, he would choose a date and go with
grace. (It’s legal where we live.)
He went out with fireworks in the wee hours of January
17.
I’m looking at my life, and what I’ve been making
important, with new eyes. I can’t begin to describe how
much richer my life suddenly feels, with John in it in
this new way. All I can say is,
Wow. Thank you, brother.