I first encountered death as a child with a beloved parakeet discovered at the bottom of his cage. I buried him in a wooden jewelry chest under a cherry tree.
Then, a neighbor who had given me a toy top died. I cried alone in my bedroom when I heard my parents discussing the news downstairs. Before I was ten years I saw a man riding a bicycle fall over in a school yard. His pants were wet and he did not move. I learned later that he was the father of a classmate -- I had watched him die, not knowing what I was seeing and not knowing what to do.
I've known at least six suicides. Some were dear friends. Joe killed himself when I was 20, as had a college friend the Christmas before. Laurel died on railroad tracks and another hung himself. They all died violently, each death a disaster.
Peter was murdered when I was 26. Peter's wife Linda had died in a car crash the year before when she was thrown though the windshield after a tire blew out and the car tumbled. I was with my sister-in-law as she was dying from cancer four years ago. Mario, bigger than life, taught me the trick of selling anything to anyone. He died from Lou Gehrig's disease two years ago.
I watched my father die of coronary disease in a hospital when I was 28. Last year my mother died of old age in my home while I was giving her a last drink of water.
Last month I went to the funeral of a good friend who called me for help shortly before his unexpected death. There was no help that anyone could give, for there was no help that he would accept. Is an alcoholic a suicide or a victim? For him, for others, and for myself I have done what I can to fight death, to slow it down, and to hold it back. From this I have learned that death is patient and relentless.
I have also learned that every death leaves the Universe smaller and diminished beyond our capacity to see. The people of my parent's generation have completely gone and those of my generation are beginning to pass away. Funerals are more frequent. Each time the Universe is left smaller.
But I am blessed by my long life. These blessings include courage and perspective. Tonight, as I changed my daughter's diaper, I kissed her and she smiled at me through her large sleepy eyes. I felt that the Universe had expanded with her arrival. My beloved adopted daughters in their diapers have confirmed that God's Mercy exceeds God's Wrath.
However, until tonight I did not know the extent by which Mercy exceeds Wrath.
Now I see the difference is infinite.
Goodnight moon.
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