I’ve been visiting several friends who are facing their final days. I always wonder whether this will be our last visit and if so what I should say as my last farewell. But I falter. I can’t bring myself to accept that reality. That finality. So I say:
Goodbye. See you later.
I once did say my final parting words to a friend who was most certainly on the threshold of death.
You’ve been the best friend ever. Wherever you go, don’t go far. I hope our paths will cross again somewhere, somehow.
My friend nodded and smiled. I kissed him on the cheek. He went on living another four weeks.
Awkward.
A family once told me their grandfather had been on his death bed, his eyes closed, for nearly 10 days. The family gathered around his bed, held hands, sang a hymn, and then his eldest daughter leaned over and said: Pappa, we’re all here. We love you and want you to know it’s okay to let go.
Pappa opened his eyes and said:
I don’t want to go. I like it here.
Awkward.
He died the next day.
When my mother-in-law was told she had just three months to live, she was shaken. But she came to accept her situation. She told Paula and me that she wanted to be interred beside her parents in Des Moines. And she wanted her memorial service at the Shepherdstown Presbyterian Church. And, oh yeah, one more thing:
I want to hear “I’m Going to Heaven” just before I pass.
I immediately downloaded that bluegrass gospel song.
Paula and I took turns sitting beside her. Watching. Waiting. Days went by with little change. And then her breathing became halting. A long pause. Then a gasp. Another. And another. I set my iPhone on her pillow and pressed play.
Her eyes opened. And she said:
Too soon!
Awkward.
We got it right the next day.
I don’t know whether heaven is real. But I believe something like it is. Considering how little we know about virtually everything in this awesome universe, anything is possible. I’m happy to let the mystery be. And I’d also be happy if the last song I hear is:
Roll up, roll up, for the Magical Mystery Tour.
When that bus rolls up, baby, I’m steppin’ on board.
* * *
I’d like to hear Bach when the time comes, especially the Little Fugue in G Minor. And here’s a huge thanks to all the organists who play Bach–especially Dianne H.–who has treated us to a piece of heaven in the here and now.
Randy, thank you for this sensitive blog, as it is very touching. In humility and in gratitude for life, just being present with persons in their final hours is a way of letting the mystery be. Moreover, it is a way of respecting and honoring people with openness and love. Indeed, the mystery of love is stronger than the mystery of death. Just being there, just showing up, with an open and compassionate heart is more vital than any words, awkward as they may be, that you can utter. As a current Hospice volunteer, I can testify to that reality. Life is an adventure in continual education. In the end, we learn it’s all about love.
What you said to your friend is right on. No goodbyes, just, “See you later, gator.” The end doesn’t follow a script. No speeches or high oratory for me please. Of course, I love your vision at the end of the piece, “All a board for the Magical Mystery Tour!” With Bob Weir’s passing last week, there getting to be a darn good band on “the other side.” I used to go to a lot of Bluegrass festivals when I was young. Great fun, more music, especially the jam sessions in the camp ground that warbled and played until the sun was almost awake, and I would try to consume it all. With too little sleep, I’d later drag what was left of me to the Sunday morning gospel sing, which is how many festivals would open their final day of performances. I’d prop myself up against a sturdy tree and just let the music wash over me. Salvation, images of heaven, and not much reference to the alternative. It was all okay. Everything was in place and how it was supposed to be. Yeah, let the mystery be; just plain be in the moment and get aboard “The Magical Mystery Tour is hoping to take you away, take you today.” I’m being metaphorical here and speaking figuratively. I have much to do yet. Embrace the mystery! I like it.
I’d like to hear Precoois Lord Take My Hand or Will the Circle Be Unbroken. Death is the most democratic thing we do. Everyone dies. If the Lord keeps me from Alzheimers I’ll be grateful. I wanna know that I’ve lived as fully as possible. Have I stood for the weak & vulnerable? Have I surrounded myself with smart, compassionate people….like you reading this right now.
What a vivid, human story telling of open hearted, sometimes awkward, always loving moments. I’ve shared those with my sister, my father, my mother…& those moments are filled with grace & awe… “the magical mystery tour is coming to take you away…”. Another dear friend crossed into the light on Friday… Peace, Todd, our brother🎶
My song is Emiy Lou Harris’ “ It don’t matter” where you bury me; I’ll be home & I’ll be free…”
Thank you & all for a wonderful filled conversation 🙏❤️
Good to be thinking about how to say goodby. I live in a retirement facility where we often see our friends die . It never gets easy, but there is a nursing section here so we can visit friends as they take the journey. It’s continues to hurt and at the same time is grounding. My sister recently few in from Michigan to say goodby to a dear friend in a hospital in DC. Her friend clearly had little time. Betsy got to spend time with her friend for three days. Bets is back in Michigan, her friend still holds on. But I think Betsy’s goodby, which included sitting quietly, laughing a little and actually saying “I love you and will miss you”. I imagine that the goodby was meant for both women. Betsy felt she had done the right thing for coming and her friend seemed happy to have her by her side for a few days. Yes, it’s a mystery, a difficult, and loving mystery. Thank you Randy for sparking thoughts about dying and loving friends who do die.
How fitting, especially today , as we mourn the passing of
our dear musician friend.
One thing is for certain.The Magical Mystery Tour is waiting to take us ALL away. After all, it’s dying to….
” Death don’t have no mercy in this land.” – Rev. Gary Davis (traditional blues singer/guitarist)
Magical Mystery Tour … indeed
I was the last in my family to visit with my Uncle Glen before he passed and when I entered the room, he pulled his oxygen mask down and said, “What’s the point?”. He was suffering with fibrosis in his lungs. I told him “Glen, there is no point? Everyone in that room out there is ready for you to go so if you have any power here know that it is ok to go.” He died that night.
I never shared this story with my aunt as they were Catholic, and I wasn’t sure how she would feel. He still visits me when I go home to the family house when in Decorah. Confused…well the TV turns on at all hours by itself and only for us according to my cousin. I have to turn the volume down, so it doesn’t wake us. And there have been two TVs over the course of time.
Preacher: “All those who want to go to heaven, raise your hands!”. Everyone in the congregation raises their hands except one old man.
Preacher: “Don’t you want to go to heaven when you die?”
Old Man: “Oh, when I die? I thought you were taking a load up right now!”
Sign me up for “Stairway to Heaven.”
I think two songs come to mind for my exit.
“There is Power in the Blood,” circa 1899 by Lewis E. Jones. Puts me in mind of southern Baptist days when a song could move a congregation and all sang even if they couldn’t. I would like a Red State rural Freewill Baptist choir singing the tune just a tad off key, with a warbling soprano.
And I always think of Jimi Hendrix’s “If 6 was 9” as an exit option played loud, with a focus on living one’s life knowing that there is an end. “I’m the one that’s gonna have to die when it’s time for me to die. So, let me live my life the way I want to, yeah. Sing on brother. Play on drummer.”
Amen.
This is a light hearted and effective way to think thru a difficult subject. I’ll be contemplating it for some time. Will need to consider my own song when the time comes!
Iris DeMent’s brilliant song (Let the Mystery Be) belongs here!
https://www.google.com/search?gs_ssp=eJzj4tFP1zcsNjAtMkvLyDNg9BLKSS1RKMlIVcitLC5JLapUSEoFALYcCyA&q=let+the+mystery+be&oq=let+the+mystery&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqBwgBEC4YgAQyCggAEAAY4wIYgAQyBwgBEC4YgAQyBwgCEAAYgAQyBggDEEUYOTIHCAQQABiABDIGCAUQRRg8MgYIBhBFGDwyBggHEEUYPNIBCDU5MzVqMGo3qAIAsAIA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8
A perfect song about wh as t we don’t know!
Thank you, Randy and Friends. It seems a holy of holies to sit with a loved one at the hour of their passing, even when it isn’t the hour! So what? Giving of our love, our presence–Time has nothing whatever to say about such a tender gift, and I believe those sacred moments are always grace-filled. “Awkward.” Well, it’s not about us, and if our presence and awkward words jolt a loved one out of a “waiting” stupor, I’d say, “Tremendous! Thank you!” That particular patient gave US a great gift!! And what’s more… we smiled, and we knew that we weren’t in charge. What a relief! 😏😉
Since Jesus talked about heaven as if it was real, I do believe in it. Not that I want to go there yet, but I can imagine physical or world conditions where I would want to go sooner. Jesus talks about Heaven about seventy times in the book of Matthew alone. Jesus described heaven as His Father’s house. It is a real place where God lives with His people. It is not a vague idea or an escape from Earth. It is a place of life, joy, and love in God’s presence.
My son was 4 when we went to the funeral of an uncle. It was the first funeral he had attended. At the graveside as we each stood holding a single rose that we would throw onto the coffin when it was our turn, he asked, What’s heaven like? Children have voices that carry. I knew other people were listening, what to say? I said the first picture that came into my mind. “It’s a super party where you see all the people you love who have already died, Jesus, and other wonderful people.” He smiled, nodded, and threw his rose after I threw mine.
This is a most interesting topic Thank you for causing me to focus on this role of music.
Some time ago, I concluded that there are several musical pieces that are as close to perfection as any expression of art . I would suggest that classical pieces are predominant which includes some all forms, even lullabies. Perfection is defined here as having a broad pubic appeal regardless of age, education or cultural background. For example, classical artists play Bach or Mozart in Korea as well as they do in Vienna.
Where does this lead me? Well, like some of your examples, I too have a piece that I would like to have played in my final moments. It’s actually two women singing a French composer’s duet about India lovers during the English occupation of India. If you have not heard the “Flower Duet,” please just give it a few minutes. Even if you are not in your final moments, I think you will see why I feel it is near perfection, as if it was composed for God.
Funny! Been there, done that.