I recently had a follow-up appointment with the surgeon who performed my total hip procedure a couple of months ago. I think this guy is awesome, but he’s not much for chit-chat…my 15 minutes was more like five. He tested my strength, asked me how rehab was going…told me to “slow my roll” as it were. I’m in a big hurry to feel normal, perhaps too big of a hurry and I’m learning that just because I can do something doesn’t always mean I should. The residual nerve pain has been humbling and a bit of a stumbling block but I like to think God has a purpose for this, if nothing else but for me to have a better understanding. Anyway, the orthopedic office is located just up the street from Gates Of Heaven Cemetery where my mom is buried. I had an impatient driver lay the horn on me because I was staring at the cemetery, lost in thought while sitting at the stop light. By the way, two light taps on the horn is polite; trying to wake the dead with your car horn is usually not necessary unless a train is about to hit you or something like that. Just saying.
I have to admit, I’m not big on cemeteries. Some, like Gates Of Heaven, are incredibly beautiful and well cared for. I’ve visited a couple of Civil War memorials, historical places like that but honestly, I couldn’t tell you where my mom is buried. I guess I never felt the need to visit the remains of an earthly existence. I know where she is, I know where Terri is, along with my grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends. And it’s not the ocean or a hole in the ground. I never understood the reason behind huge tombstones are monuments; they certainly can’t help the dead, so I guess it’s more about those of us on this side of the dirt. I fondly remember occasionally driving by one cemetery with my young family and we couldn’t help but laugh at one tombstone that stood out: BUTTS. My apologies if this is your last name, but that was worth at least three or more gut-buster laughs every time we’d pass by.
One thing I can say for cemeteries is that they are a stark reminder that we all have an end date. Despite the all of the bitterness that seems to separate us these days, we all have one thing in common: nobody lives for ever. Nobody. You may be remembered, reviled, or highly regarded, but when your heart stops beating and your earth suit has gone way past the warranty date, all of chains that bind you to this world are broken forever. There’s no staying and there’s no coming back. Now, that’s a hard thing to grasp for some people, maybe a lot of people because it’s difficult to see past the cemetery. If I were a smart man, I would have never opened a martial arts school; instead, I should have started selling coffins. Nice coffins, with plush interior, mood lights…eight track tape player. No coffins for me, thanks. For years I’ve requested my family just have my body embalmed and propped up on the front porch with a sign in my lap that says, “Get off my lawn.”
Death is a tough subject and for good reason; the whole point of life is to stay alive. That’s why your parents had to convince you that you could not stop a car with your body and that despite your belief in super powers, you cannot fly. I mean, I’m technically in the health and fitness industry and my job is to educate people on how to live longer, healthier lives. But some people take this to extremes. Life-preserving diets, body treatments, supplements to supplement the supplements they’re taking, etc. Do I really want to see me at 100? Do you really want to see me at 100? If that’s my destiny, I suppose but I don’t need to be here any longer than I’m supposed to be. I love all of the people in my life and I miss all of the ones who are no longer here, but when it’s time, it’s time. And, I know there’s more waiting for me than a grave or my front porch. That knowledge, the knowledge of a life beyond this one is incredibly calming and humbling. Calming because I have more to look forward to than a tricked out coffin. Humbling, because I know the only way to get there is through grace beyond all understanding. “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6
“Remember, you must die.” Momento Mori. It has reemerged as a popular stoic philosophy, but it has Christian underpinnings. Knowing that every hair on our heads is numbered should give us some pause, don’t you think? Now, some people take the reality of death as an open door to every vice, every desire. Anything and everything all the time because once you’re gone, that’s it, lights out. So, live it up, right? Experience everything you can. Ok, understandable. I do feel sorry for those poor souls who believe in reincarnation. Pretty sure I’d come back as a Dung Beatle. At least I could finally say, “I’m the shit.” Sorry.
I have never faced death the way that others have, especially those closest to me, so maybe it’s not entirely fair for me to suggest that dying is not necessarily scary and I’m certainly not hoping to or planning on dying anytime soon. But the knowledge that my time is limited and that there are one of two places I will go has a direct impact on how I live my life and how I treat others. Many Christians believe that when we die, we will have a life review. Everything you said, everything you did, everything you didn’t do. Times when you made the difference and times when you could and should have but chose not to. If we all try to live in that space every day, our time on the planet would be very different. Our homes wouldn’t be as important as those whom we allow into them. We’d still work hard, provide for our families, “make the world a better place” and all. But maybe we’d also be mindful of words we choose, the actions we take, the time we share.
Audrey Hepburn once said, “The most important thing is to enjoy your life - to be happy - that’s all that matters.” I would amend that a bit. Be thankful for the time you have and be cognizant of the fact that that time is limited. Kind of changes your prospective when you realize it’s not all about you. If you really want some good advice on how to live, may I suggest Matthew 2:37-39? Think of it as a summation of momento mori.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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