We are mourning the death of a dear friend. John's death at 77 was about both blessing and grief. His grief and ours. John was diagnosed with dementia six years ago. Other than sometimes having trouble finding words, hard for this articulate man, John did well until these past months. During these waning days of autumn, he deteriorated rapidly. At the end it was if he was suspended between here and whatever lies beyond, until he simply stopped breathing.
Never one to deny reality, John knew exactly what was happening to him. With dementia, he knew dying happens twice. First with his loss of connection with what we call our Self, and thus with others we love. Until the final dying when he would breath no more.
John grew up in West Texas and retained some of the drawl of his childhood. It took me several years after we first met to understand what he meant when he said "how ya doin'" - that he did not mean he was asking for a report of my immediate state of being. It was simply a Texas hello! John lived in gratitude and celebrated life. His infectious laugh will remain with me forever.
John's mind was quick and he had a carefully honed ability to hear not only what was being said, but what was not said - or sometimes realized - by the other person. As a listener, he spent his life in the service of hearing others' stories - their pain and their joy. He gave so much of himself, but would be quick to say how much he received.
Death is always loss for us who grieve. Yet at the same time, it was a blessing that he did not linger at the end, when he moved into confusion and anxiety. I knew him for exactly half of my life - to the month. Life will be strange for some time, the knowing he is no longer here with us.
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