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Everybody gets chicken and our expiry date

A mystery that all of us grapple with sooner or later is the mystery surrounding death. We can joke about it and dodge around it, but in the end we are all in the same boat. We are born with an expiration date.

A mystery that all of us grapple with sooner or later is the mystery surrounding death. We can joke about it and dodge around it, but in the end we are all in the same boat. We are born with an expiration date.

Death, it can be argued, came about after God’s plan was adjusted to accommodate Adam and Eve’s (our) failings. But we are all in the plan. Some of us are more conscious of its unfolding and make deliberate adjustments. In the end we all get chicken – heavenly fried, we hope; the wines clear and well aged (Isaiah 25:6).

We resist accepting the natural decay that takes our loved ones from us. The popularity of Glen Campbell’s song “I’m not gonna miss you” at this year’s Oscars is an example of this preoccupation. The pain and struggle of Alzheimer’s addresses loss and grieving from an unusual angle.

The patient says, “You’re the last person I will love, the last face I will recall; but I’m not gonna miss you.” I would like to add my own final verse to the song:

I’m gonna keep you in my heart

Even after you are gone

Remember the joy and not the pain

And I’d do it all again

But, I’m gonna miss you.

In the very first episode of Breaking Bad, Walter White tells his students that the essence of chemistry and life itself is “growth, then decay, then transformation.” In her column “Walter White’s Life lessons — Breaking Bad” Natarro (Nikki Tarrant-Hoskins) says, “If you believe in the transformation of life, then getting through the days and moments of nursing someone with a terminal illness will no doubt be easier.

“At the very least, you can cling to the faith that as a primary care-giver, you’re easing your loved one through and past the pain and suffering of their final journey. What a privilege and responsibility this is.”

Annie Dilliard asserts: “One should write as if posthumously…Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. That is, after all, the case.”

In a related article Tarrant-Hoskins says, “What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality? …It all has the most profound purpose and meaning. Will there ever be a more important time or place?

“The last breathe, the last heartbeat, the wrenching open of the veil that moves our loved one away from pain forever. Words do not matter. Being there matters. There is no right or wrong, so you don’t have to worry about getting it right.

“You just have to show up. There will never be another moment that compares to this in life…the last kiss, the last embrace, the last conscious moment that you’ll ever share. Don’t squander a word, a syllable; don’t squander a second.”

Phillipe Aries wrote: “A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.” As Christians we have hope, and in all circumstances we still have reason to give thanks.“Let God's promises shine on your problems.” Corrie Ten Boom.

“Darkness cannot put out the Light. It can only make God brighter.” Author Unknown