Work Life Balance & Death

This week I know of 7 people who passed. I wasn’t particularly close to any of them, but I am more deeply connected to those who remain behind in mourning.

Their stories differed, but more than half the people had died unexpectedly, and by most accounts hadn’t spent enough time with family and friends. Instead, some opted to make work or their career – their God. That’s a strong statement, but one worth thinking about as many of us review the integration of working and living in a 24/7 world.

WorkLife balance is not, so much, an issue for those who are passing, but it is certainly a concern for those of us enduring the dying process of a loved one. I recently blogged on this in my post Work Life Balance: The Complexity and Sensitivity of Elder Care, which was a response to author Cali Williams Yost post on the passing of her mom.

Losing a parent, child or partner generally stops us in the moment. Everything stops. We reflect, we mourn and we go on. Often we contemplate the “what-ifs” and what was “left unsaid” which brings me to a beautiful story about a great chap whose funeral I attended this afternoon.

This man I speak of, Charles, is the patriarch of his family. 6 children and 14 grandchildren filled the pews of a church on Long Island today. He was the father of a close childhood friend of mine. A successful business man, he spent a lot of time traveling away from the family or at the club. But he was always there when you needed him.

The day was a touching remembrance of how genuinely gracious this man was. He gave to more charities than I can mention and bought enough girl scout cookies to feed an army.  In his typical satirical manor he also managed to have the last word. In suit jacket pockets, dresser drawers, and in a journal, this man had made his mark in the form of lovingly written messages to his family.

Written on small pieces of paper and scattered throughout the house, these missives spoke of love, good times with the “gang” and a life well lived. He had the forethought to comfort his family even after his death. Fully present to the day he passed, he made every minute count during the last three years of his life – even in the face of the unknown. He made a conscious decision to fill his last days with family and close friends. It made me think. How many of us are that present in our daily lives, conscious of our connection to family and friends?

Recently I was speaking to a close friend of mine who lives in Atlanta. Lamenting over a recent passing of a mutual friend, we vowed to make a better attempt at spending more time together. It’s funny how death makes you do that and talk of such things.

In completing our conversation, enthused about the prospect of seeing each other sooner than later, she asked me to look up into the sky. I ahhhed at the site of the full moon.

“Where ever you are on the planet, when you look to the sky remember we’re always looking at the same moon,” she shared with a sigh before a dead silence. And as I pushed the off button on my black berry, I took in the moon again, and pondered her words. Such a nice way to connect in the moment, I thought, although it was a quick fix.

It’s those quick fixes of connection that we look for when someone passes. Unfortunately, it’s often after the fact ,that we begin to explore the deep connection with the person who has passed. It’s hard to live every moment with awareness. But we can try as we work on our own personal development.

As a hospice volunteer I am afforded a constant reminder of how quickly the moment can change, how we grow in moments of crisis and what we can learn from it. At the funeral today, I received another reminder. A lovely woman gave me a book and shared this passage from Gift From the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh:

“I want first of all – in fact, as an end to these other desires – to be at peace with my self. I want singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can. I want, in fact – to borrow from the language of the saints – to live in grace as much of the time as possible….By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony.”

As above, so below, they say. And as we develop that inward peace and harmony, we share with others outside of our selves. That is, if we make a conscious effort and take the time to do so.