The sacredness of the end of days…

Or the reality of being both selfless and selfish.

We aren’t human beings who have spiritual encounters. We are Spiritual beings on human journeys.

It was a tradition for me, as principal, on the last day of school, that I mute the dismissal bell, activate the intercom, and announce to the school the official end of the school year and the start of summer. And then we all walk out to Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out For Summer” played across the entire campus. It’s SO COOL! And I’m thankful kindergarteners don’t understand rock and roll lyrics.

We did this again on Monday. I did it for the very last time.

School is out for summer. And Kristin and I now begin the mental and emotional preparation in earnest to welcome Dad home. Again, we are doing this to counter his worst fear: that he will die alone in a place he doesn’t like. We don’t want that: Clary and Gloria, Trevor and Kendra, Kristin and I…we don’t want that. We can’t allow that to happen. So we won’t.

We are almost there Dad—just days now, no longer months. You’ve got this.

T-minus 9 days and counting.

My final admin retreat was on Tuesday and I had many of my beloved colleagues come to me to check in on how Dad was doing—they all know my new WHY for resigning. Many have become enduringly curious as they also share their admiration of what I’m about to do, as if I’m doing something superhuman or extraordinary. As if this is one helluva selfless act and that I’m some kind of saint for offering this to my dad. Everyone admires the act.

But nothing is further from truth. Sure, and of course, I get the fact families don’t really do this all that much anymore—something that was somewhat common just mere generations ago. And yes this is going to be hard and I’ll be on call 24/7 (and Dad will likely call for me 24/7 especially when his days and nights get harder for him). But I don’t see how this is a sacrifice of so much. The way of life Kristin and I have created for ourselves will simply change to become a new way of life with Dad included. THIS is why Kristin is the real Saint and Selfless one. This doesn’t happen without Kristin’s love, understanding, and acceptance.

But I’m also doing this for selfish reasons. We’re about to receive a profound gift. Inviting Dad into our home with our plan to provide end-of-life care, is inviting the Sacred. Dad is preparing (even if poorly at that right now—but not much longer; preparations improve in nine days) for his return to full Soul and Spirit. Death is not the end of anything other than the shell that is the body. To accompany Dad to his precipice is to approach, with reverence, the Sacred. To solemnly bear witness to the return of his Soul energy to its eternal Source. It should be that way for everyone, but we can make it that way for Dad. And even though, as Stephen Jenkinson says: “I’m gonna find me a daemon in a dark, dark wood. You can’t come with me. I wish you could;” and even though it seems like he’s fearful of dying, especially of dying alone (we know THAT for sure) or more likely of dying in pain; and even though we can’t go with dad there (for we’re all on our own unique paths heading toward that same destination), we can accompany him a spell, along what should be a solemn, Sacred, wonderful, and joyful time of this, his end-of-human journey.

This is one of my intentions in writing these posts—so that you all can be involved in Dad’s life and Soul transition. And in doing so, enrich his life, your life, and ours, by remembering. If you are reading along, and if we have time enough to call you all to say your own goodbyes when his time does come (…and it will come), we can accompany him, with love, all the way to his threshold—just not through it. And that will comfort him. We’ll say, (we’ll all say), a lovely goodbye and “we love you forever.” If you are not able to speak directly with him, maybe we can use the ability this forum has so that you can write your love memories; we’d be sure to read them to him. Then we’ll take him forward into our own lives, in our hearts, forever—allowing his Soul and Spirit into ours. The whole transition of the end of days is Sacred…because it invites mystery. Dad is glimpsing now what that mystery might be like and soon will have the joy of experiencing it fully. Bearing witness to it now is Dad’s teaching, and our learning and initiation into the mystery of dying.

[Short pause: When does a person truly die? It’s not when their physical existence ends and their body no longer lives. It’s when they become forgotten. So, let’s make sure Dad becomes immortal: by not forgetting. We’ll do that by the memories we’ll keep and the stories we need to tell each other, of him, when we are together.]

THIS is what we are preparing for. Are you with me?

THIS is the wisdom teaching Dad has in store for us. I was fortunate to have a career that allowed me to be paid to teach. Dad offered his teachings his whole life for free. His whole and humble life of hard work, sweat, tears, and toil, was his teaching, his example, his model for us all. All we had to do, even if it took me 40 years to fully comprehend, was watch, wake up, understand, and…learn. These final lessons we are about to learn can be the most profound provided we open our hearts fully, lean into the coming pain, and embrace the inevitable grief that will come (and it too will come). Dad will be a great teacher for us; he always has been.

So, I’m selfish. Get it?

I want dad to teach me how to live. I want him to help me glimpse the Sacred. So, he will. He need do nothing more than simply be human.

Care to join me?

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This short video captures these sentiments as well from another of my own teachers: Frank Ostaseski—pioneer in end-of-life care and co-creator of the Zen Hospice Project in San Francisco where I was fortunate to take a course of study and meditation on caregiving a few years ago. His book, “The Five Invitations” is remarkable. More on the five invitations soon.