Old People

I spent much of the month of May's "extra" time attending to the pastoral needs of a dear old lady and her family as she drifted gently toward death. I was glad to do it. We had her memorial service on May 31, an excellent time, because there are flowers in everyone's garden that could be gathered to brighten the church. She herself had often brought garden flowers for services, so it reminded us of her. She and her husband had lived long lives in a network of communities. They had been vital participants in the activities of our congregation, of Star Island, their family, and several other organizations dedicated to worthy causes. We all loved them. Her husband had died last October, leaving her, after sixty-some years, adrift in a world without him. It was a conscious decision on her part -- she wasn't feeling well, she didn't want to go on without him -- there was a moment we all knew that she had decided no to go on living.

It was sad to realize that this was happening, yet there was nothing to do but accept. And gradually, the life force ebbed from her body, although she remained alert in the moments when she was not too tired. Her family gathered. Her friends dropped in for short visits. She loved people, so these visits revived her while they lasted. But it became clear she was allowing herself to get overtired -- so the visits had to end. We hated that part.

Sometimes, when someone in her nineties dies, hardly anyone remembers. We had another elder lady die last fall, someone who had been out of touch with the congregation for years, living in a retirement home, someone whose interests had all faded as she aged, who had slipped more deeply into dementia in recent years. Her husband had died in the spring, and by fall, she was ready to "go and be with him." Much about her story was the same -- a long marriage, a long life into her nineties, the death of her beloved husband a few months earlier, a decision not to go on living. And when it was over, there were a very few people who remembered and still cared. They had had no children, and most of their friends has passed from this life before them. The nephew and niece who were their guardians did care, but there was no other extended family who chose to be at the memorial service. A dozen old people gathered, plus the nephew -- the niece had gone back to the midwest where she now lives-- to remember her life and say goodbye.

Not so with our lady of May. When we celebrated her life, over two hundred relatives and friends crowded into our modest sanctuary. There were so many stories -- touching, funny, poignant, colorful -- together we summoned up a hologram of her presence, resolved to be like her as much as we could, laughed and wept, and bid her farewell. It was a death that had come in its time, since it is imprudent to make any claims on the future at ninety-one, and yet we all wished she had gone on living -- just a little while, for us. And there was so much food. Her son had sent word not to make a fuss, only to be told that not fussing was not going to be possible. Everyone wanted to bring something to the reception. This was a good thing, because everyone wanted to stand around and talk and eat and drink punch and coffee for a long time, even after a long formal service.

It's not really true that we choose our endings, although I suspect there is more choice than we think, those of us on the outside. Having watched these dear elders live their last days, weeks, and months, though, I suspect there are some things we should remember as we lurch forward into old age. Mainly, it seems to be about having friends and having interests. Life continues to flow through us as we remain engaged with the living of it. Belonging to a church, with its constant resupply of people of younger ages, seems just right. As the lives of the younger ones help maintain the interests of the older ones, the wisdom and simple presence of the older ones blesses the younger ones. Families can sometimes be like this, but families can get small. A person needs multiple communities and multiple interests long into old age, no doubt about it. There truly is something wrong with shutting people away into colonies of the elderly and letting them find community only among people in older age. Let the doors be open between the generations!