I thought I was done with deathbed farewells, and then a son of an old friend called.
My dad would like you to come see him.
Why?
He’s dying.
Forty-some years ago a friend called and told me her mother was dying and her Episcopal priest was out of town and I was the only minister she knew nearby.
Can you come and administer last rites?
Presbyterians don’t do last rites, I told her.
Oh, but I know you can. Just fake it. She’s comatose. She won’t know the difference.
I went, held the dying woman’s hand, read the 23rd Psalm, said the Lord’s Prayer, anointed her with oil, kissed her, and pronounced the Trinitarian benediction. After hugging my friend, I left.
She called the next day.
Mom woke up and she’s feeling fine.
She went on to live several more years.
A similar thing happened a few months later when I visited a parishioner on her deathbed. I hugged her family one by one and left. Two hours later her husband called.
You won’t believe it. She woke up shortly after you left.
She lived 20 more years.
(If you need last rites, don’t call me. I’m not good at it.)
Last month I went to see my dying friend. His son led me to his room.
You wanted to see me?
Yeah, I did. But first I’ve got a joke for you.
He told me his joke. Then I told one. Then his son told one. Then his daughter-in-law. Then his step-daughter. Then he told another. On and on it went for an hour—laughing in the face of death.
A deathbed joke fest.
When you asked to see me, is this what you had in mind?
No. But it’s been fun. Of course, I didn’t have dying in mind either, but here we are.
Yes, here we are. And I’m still wondering whether there was something in particular you wanted to see me about?
No. Not really. I just wanted to see my friends before I leave.
I took his hand, resting in the moment, feeling blessed.
Say, would you like to hear Bilbo Baggins’s blessing for an outbound traveler?
Sure, why not?
He closed his eyes.
“Wherever you fare, my friend, may you fare well.”
He opened his eyes, leaned toward me, and muttered: You know, I’ve never liked Tolkien. Too wordy.
Again. Don’t call me.
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See Paula’s “Love Sweeps In” on the home page.
