Summer in full bloom in Ethiopia.
Spoiler: This post won’t be about Ethiopia. These are certain thoughts that have been bouncing around in my mind for years, and it’s about time they were put on (virtual) paper. Given the recent events of the past two days, I feel as though now is as important of a time as any.
Dying is inevitable. We are all going to perish one day, and whether it will be in a peaceful and timely manner, or catastrophically tragic, it’s a fact of life nonetheless. Despite death being expected or sudden, it is almost always difficult to come to terms with. Fortunately or unfortunately – however you’d like to look at it – it’s one of life’s enigmas, shrouded in complete mystery.
Humans, by nature, are afraid of that which we do not know or understand. We try our damndest to make sense of the world around us; we categorize it, compartmentalize it, and dissect it until we’re blue in the face and come out with an answer that satisfies us for the time being. Our tenacity for the truth and knowledge for the common good is something that I am deeply grateful for. Without it, wouldn’t we still think that the world is flat?
This brings me to the concept of death. Every being has a different understanding of why we die and what happens afterwards. Interpretations differ across cultures and across religions, but the version I’m most familiar with is the good old Catholic way. To be fair, growing up Catholic largely taught me what I do and don’t believe, even though my beliefs may not necessarily coincide with that part of my life anymore. I’ve always been inquisitive and challenging towards religion, and that exposure has helped me form my own version of death.
I no longer consider myself to have any type of religious association, and here is part of the reason why: Catholicism taught me to place more of an emphasis on getting to an afterlife that we aren’t even sure of, rather than enjoying the beauty of this life that we are currently present in. I completely understand the reasoning for believing in an afterlife, however. Back to my original thought of “Humans, by nature, are afraid of that which we do not know or understand,” we want to be assured of life after death, because it is a comforting thought. We have no idea what happens after we die, because there are obviously no sources that can confirm or deny our beliefs. Does it hurt? Are we still ourselves? Do we have thoughts? Is there a white light and some pearly gates? The questions go on and on. Part of my belief as to why we have created this afterlife theory, is because it helps us to make sense of what is to come. It gives us comfort that we are not mere organic beings who will cease to exist completely. How could we have thoughts and feelings one day, and the next, be gone? It’s tragic, really, and that’s what really sucks about death for most people. It also gives comfort to the loved ones who are left behind; if they can hold on to a belief that their mother or son or best friend is in a better place, it makes saying goodbye to that person a bit easier.
Christians aren’t the first to do this, though. Humans have been creating religious theories long before formal scientific inquisition. Remember the Greeks and their elaborate tales of gods and goddesses residing on Mount Olympus? Those were also an attempt to make sense of this often-confusing world in which we live. No one was given an instruction manual for Planet Earth, and if we were, that’s certainly the world’s best-kept secret. Society has grown and evolved for thousands of years into the reality we know as today. With it, our knowledge of the world and other theories have grown and evolved with it. This is simply a natural progression. As we become more advanced, so does our understanding of science and all that it encompasses. Even so, our knowledge of what happens after we shudder our final breath is still largely unknown.
And you know what? I find this to be beautiful. Yes, there is comfort in knowing what to expect. And yes, believing in an afterlife is the best thing we have, as it eases our mind that we will indeed continue living past the life we know now. However, I do find the afterlife theory to be flawed. You may think I’m crazy or that I haven’t suffered from the death of a loved one yet in my young life. Wrong. I’m no stranger to death, and I have watched it take many loved ones from my life in my short twenty-three years. I would love for us to instead focus on this life, and living in the present to the fullest potential. Too many people spend far too much energy living in a certain way, in order to get to an afterlife that we can’t confirm the existence of. I would love to live in a world where we focused more on being the best person we are now, for ourselves. Not for anyone else, or for the betterment of our afterlife-self, but for the benefit of our humanity right now.
We are by no means forgotten or lost once we die; the sorrowful and grieving and everyone that a person touched in their life continue to keep the departed’s memory alive. Though we are no longer present in mind or body, our actions, words, and values continue to propagate past the physical presence of ourselves. Therein lies the question: What legacy do you want to leave behind? In what way do you want to be remembered? It may sound silly, but I live as if this is my only chance, as if this is my only now. I’m eager to experience all that I can, because I’m not guaranteed a second chance or another shot at life, whether it’s through reincarnation or the afterlife.
To be honest, as I grew older, death began to fascinate me. It’s the grand finale of a succession of events that randomly occurs in a sequence that either makes sense and works out, or it doesn’t. I think that life is a state of wonderfully organized entropy; it’s random and chaotic, but yet each event occurs in such a way that allows for our lives to be pieced together and possess individual meaning. For years, I have tried to make sense of this piece-y and fragmented thought, and it’s satisfying to know that I have created a theory of my own, for myself.
Death works in mysterious ways, and it’s difficult to know when it will snatch its next “victim” (or willing participant, who knows). What interests me most is the series of events that leads up to death. Why on that day, in that place? Why with that person, at that second, in that month? What caused that particular collision of time and space, leading to the end of a life? It’s truly a fascinating concept, because we don’t usually recognize the significance of events and what is happening, until they have happened.
I am by no means criticizing different belief systems. I do respect our right and our freedom to believe in what we feel is the truth (so long as you don’t try and stuff it down my throat). Our freedom of religious or spiritual belief is a sacred right to possess, because in a lot of cases, it dictates how we live our lives, and what we feel to be moral and just. As I mentioned, I grew up Catholic. Two of the greatest people that I have every known, my grandparents, are devoutly Catholic. They hold the dearest place in my heart, and I am so grateful each and every day for the strong presence they had in my life while growing up. Do we always see eye to eye in everything? No, of course not. But does anyone see exactly eye to eye with another human being? Not always one hundred percent. It would be impossible. This isn’t a bad thing though; it’s our differences that make each relationship dynamic. It’s our differences that give us substance, and something to talk about. I never want to eradicate human differences, because they should be such a treasured aspect of our very unique selves.
When my grandpa died, it was a very difficult time for our family. He had been sick for a long time, and as the end drew near, we all knew that it was his time. I’m so happy that we were able to have one last Christmas together, with the entire family, which almost never happens. There are good things that come out of the end of something. It brings people together, and we reach to our loved ones for support. Years before he passed, he told me, “You need to start preparing for a time when I won’t be here. Because I won’t always be around.” As a teenager, those were sobering words, and I refused to accept that he was in his final few years. But a funny thing happens when someone passes, and you know they had a full and vibrant life: You feel relieved. You feel a bittersweet happiness, because why should anyone suffer or be in pain, when they had such an amazing and long life? After his death, everyone grieved in different ways. Religion, I have to hand it to you, provides people with an excellent coping mechanism. I have seen this time and time again. In a way, I’m very happy that someone has a way to come to terms with the idea that someone is not coming back. On my mother’s side, comfort in the death of her parents comes through symbolism; a message here, a meaning there. We all extract significance from certain events, and it provides us with a framework for how we should grieve.
I like to believe that people continue to contribute to nature’s life cycle. We are organic matter that is given back to the earth, and recycled in nature. I think it’s the most beautiful, and the most natural. I saw something online months back; someone had created a burial concept for your ashes that grow into a tree after it’s planted. I was so excited when I saw it, and I thought, that is how I want to be buried! Let me be a tree, somewhere in the forest, for decades to come. That way, you live on. You are absorbed, recycled, and regenerated on this beautiful planet we call home. It’s similar to the lasting impact we leave on people: We are a memory. But the strength of our memory is determined on the type of person we choose to be, and how we have touched lives along the way. To many, memories are comforting. That’s why we feel nostalgia.
This ramble brings me to the events of late last week. When I woke up on Saturday morning, I discovered that a family friend and high school mentor, Jimmy Williams, had passed away. There is nothing worse than finding out bad news when you’re across the world, and unable to easily connect with friends and family. Immediately after reading the news, the reality set in that I wouldn’t be back for the funeral either. That was another tough thing to get past.
Jimmy was an incredibly special person. He had the sharpest wit of anyone I knew, and an unrivaled love for books and gardening. Jimmy was the librarian at my high school, the Athol Murray College of Notre Dame, but a mentor to all that passed through its famed halls. Jimmy, though staunchly set in his ways, was the kindest soul you could ever come across. He cared for each and every Hound, and his presence at school was a part of what made Notre Dame so special. Right now, Wilcox and Hounds across the world are mourning a great loss.
However, I am happy. I cried my tears, and now I can fully recognize how grateful I am to have had the opportunity to know such a great man; such a true Notre Dame Man. Jimmy Williams is the epitome of a memory that lives on. His character is not one that will soon be forgotten, as he is a true model of all the good qualities that an individual should embody. Each and every one of us is so proud to have known Jimmy, and the power in that memory is what will keep Jimmy’s vibrant spirit alive and with us.
Like I said, it’s difficult being so far away from home sometimes. It is in these moments that you also recognize how much you need your home, and all that is familiar, from time to time. They’re going to stream Jimmy’s funeral live on July 2nd. It’s the next best thing to being there, so I’m going to stay up that night and watch. I will also smile to myself too, because Jimmy is now being given back to the earth. And I think he’d be happy about, since one of his greatest loves was gardening.
Rest easy, Jimmy. This one’s for you.
The Notre Dame Man and Woman
By Pere Athol Murray
The world today is looking for men and women,
Who are not for sale
Who are honest, sound from centre to circumference, true to the heart’s core
With consciences as steady as the needle to the pole
Who will stand for the right if the heavens totter and the earth reels
Who can tell the truth and look the world right in the eye
Who neither brag nor run
Who neither flag or flinch
Who can have courage without shouting it
In whom the courage of everlasting life runs still, deep and strong
Who know their message and tell it
Who know their place and fill it
Who know their business and attend to it
Who will not lie, shirk or dodge
Who are not too lazy to work, nor too proud to be poor
Who are willing to eat what they have earned and wear what they have paid for
Who are not ashamed to say “No” with emphasis
God is looking for them. He wants those who can unite together around a common faith – who can join hands in a common task – and who have come to the kingdom for such a time as this. God give us such as them.
Not only will they be better prepared to fulfill their duties as a citizen, they should make a better friend, a better husband, a better father, a better wife, because free people do. They will, in short, be better prepared to live, and when their hour comes, they will know better how to die because free people do.