Embedded in Time
{Originally published on Angie Muresan}
When older people get together there is something unflappable about them; you can see they’ve tasted all the heavy, bitter, spicy food of life, extracted it’s poisons, and will now spend 10 or 15 years in a state of perfect equilibrium and enviable morality. Irene Nemirovsky, Fire in the Blood
12th century church
I have a few friends who are well into their eighties; women who have lived their lives thoroughly and enjoyed the amassed daily moments to their fullest extent. I love these women for what they are. There is wisdom in their advice, a sense of humor in their actions. They’ve come to terms with the destruction life has in store. Physical health and beauty deteriorating, husbands and friends lost to death or alzheimers, children and dear ones far away, their bodies betraying them daily. But their kindness, their compassion, their love survived every treachery and evolved into a beauty transcending the physical.
I know they have fears. Whenever I see them upset at their lack of control over their bodies, they fear for their dignity. For their self-respect and the respect, or lack of, others have for them. I like to remind them that their self-esteem need not suffer because their bodies fail. They are more than that. More than fragile bones and decrepit muscles. They are the light in the eyes, the smile on the lips, the love they exude.
Some have come to terms with death encroaching, others have not. But, I don’t believe it is death they fear, or maybe not as much; what they fear is their disappearance; the disappearance of their voices, their laughter, their memory. The fear of becoming a dusty one-dimensional photo. The cessation of their story.
And then the fear of eternity. Who is immune to that? All around, so vast and unfathomable. Like grains of sand or stars in the night sky. And all that had been left undone and unsaid. All the mundane and not so mundane choices made daily that may or may not have purified the soul. Or whether their faith will pay off and they will be in the presence of God and their loved departed ones, or rotting away, first their flesh and then their bones.
And yes, for some the fear of death as well. Of what happens at that moment when this earthly life ends and the other begins. That transition from the mortal to the immortal. The termination of one and the beginning of another. How will it be? What will they feel? Where will their soul go and how will it get there?
Yet, despite all these thoughts in their minds and in mine, I marvel at their depth, at the lives they’ve created, at their multi-dimensional facets, the little glimpses into the girls they were and the women they’ve become. So graceful, caring, resilient. And I look forward to my old age, not in despair but in hope; the hope that I’ll become like one of them, enduring and persevering.
Editors Pick by Michele from Sparks and Butterflies: Angie is a new read for me… Her introspection and way with words speak to me, and make me think about my own self. Serious posts interspersed with lighthearted topics make for an interesting read! Check out her blog, Angie Muresan; the original post, Embedded in Time; and subscribe to her feed. You won’t be disappointed.
Editor
sparksfley
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October 13th, 2009
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Category:
Author - Angie Muresan, Channel- Religion & Philosophy, Coping, Death, Editor- Michele Sparks & Butterflies, Featured 2, Philosophy, Tuesday 1
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I have had similar fears about dying as well. Problem is I can’t express them so eloquently. Such lovely words, I had to wipe away tears.
What a beautiful, poignant post. I immediately remembered the twinkle in my Grandmother’s eye, the sage advice she sprinkled in our lives while we had her. You must have a brave, caring heart to see and share this, and go forth with hope.