** Names and identifying details have been changed to preserve the privacy of everyone involved. **
This is a cautionary tale of how to not live your life...
Last week the friend of a friend had a heart attack and died while he was in the midst of diabetes-related dialysis treatment. Let's call the newly deceased John and our mutual friend Rachel. Because John has very little family anywhere, and none within several hundred miles of where he lived, he'd asked Rachel to act on his behalf if he were ever too incapacitated to do it himself. That was several years ago and until his sudden and unexpected death, she'd never been called on to make decisions of this import for him or anyone else. And it's been hard!
She's had to negotiate to get the body released from the hospital, get the funeral home to cremate his body (his expressed wish) with only a weak promise of payment (no life insurance), cancel his apartment lease and utilities, and, today, clean out his few worldly belongings and put them in storage until his family can come and claim what they want. Rachel told me John left behind one big basket of clothes and "they are dirty and not in good shape at all" so she's going to just throw them all away. Later in our conversation, she added: "I think he had more socks than any other clothes." Rachel listed a couch, love seat, bookcase, 4 end tables, a coffee table, 2 kitchen chairs, a folding table, a 3-drawer filing cabinet, an electric wheelchair, and a hospital bed as the rest of his possessions. "That's it. That's all he had in his life. No papers. No clutter. No nothing." For food, she said he had several packages of Ramen and a few Mom's Meals in the freezer. (Mom's Meals are pre-packaged frozen meals delivered directly to elderly and disabled folks as one of the options they can choose from for community supports.)
On the one hand, I'm awestruck at the simplicity in which John survived. Not having many possessions to care for is appealing in some ways. At the same time, it makes me terribly sad that a life, any life, can be summed up this way. And, yes, I am painfully aware of the implications it holds for me and the loneliness I often feel.
Rachel feels guilty for not being a better friend and spending more time with him and making sure he had food and nice things. But John chose to let his disability isolate him. He chose to keep his social circle very small. And since the only picture I've ever seen has him glaring like he's about to snap the photo taker's head off... I can only surmise he spent a lot of time lonely and angry. Loneliness can do that to you - you don't want people around you and at the same time resent them for not being there, for having lives of their own, for seeking happiness without you. Loneliness can do a number on your emotional health that doesn't make sense unless you've personally experienced the depths of that dark sadness.
So my caution is this: Take a moment to reflect on your life and how you want to be remembered. Is a short list of temporal things in bad repair enough? What legacy do you want to leave behind?
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