I'm guilty of participating in the media's latest deathwatch for the Pope. I was watching "Divorce Court" this afternoon, when they broke in to inform the viewers that the Pope was near death. I watched for about 15 minutes, during which the news reporters on Fox "updated" the story several times, including the announcement that the Pope had slipped into a coma (which may or may not be true).
I am ashamed of myself. Not at all surprised, but ashamed nevertheless.
Death should be a private passage. Pope John Paul II should be able to make this transition without the world's eye on his every breath. All of us are guilty of waiting. But all of us want to know how God's messenger here in Earth makes his transition.
Only, he hasn't passed away yet. A full eight hours after Fox 5 News cut into Judge Mablean with the breaking story of his looming health crises and imminent death, the Pope is still in the land of the living. This is a bit like watching paint dry.
I am curious for a lot of reasons. After all, this is the Pope. He is a beacon of global decency. He is a true monarch appointed by God here on Earth. Add to that, he is the only Pope I've known in my lifetime. But in all of this, he is so human and frail. He's been shot, he's broken a hip, he has osteoporosis and a bunch of other ailments, yet he's still here.
Like my grandmother, the Pope has Parkinson's disease, a neurological disorder. From what I read today, it doesn't kill you any faster than anything else, but because my grandmother had it, I have paid closer attention to his deterioration. Grandma H died in 1988, and looking back and comparing her situation to that of the Pope, I can clearly remember her last few days.
Conventional wisdom at the time was that she was aware of her impending death but she didn't tell us. At her funeral, a least three people remarked on the sereness of her face and the calm, peaceful manner she presented in her last days. Unfortunately, no one in my family had any idea, until the home care nurse got a call that Grandma had gone into cardiac arrest. To her credit, the nurse told them to do whatever they could to save her and somewhere along the line, my mother found out and reiterated those instructions, but it was not meant to be. Grandma H died on her 79th birthday.
Today, my husband has perched a small wallet-sized photo of her in the frame of a poster we have displayed in the dining room. He finds comfort in her presence in our home. I can't disagree with his assessment--I too find comfort in her image. I also find a small bit of comfort in the image of his deceased father, whose faded photo is on display in the upstairs hallway. I can't explain why, but our dead relatives seem to be watching over us.
I have no idea what happens when it is all over, but in some strange way, I feel that a person's presence never really leaves--their life only changes planes of existence. Of course, I have no way of proving this, knowing this, and I honestly have no reason to believe any of this. But maybe it makes all of us feel better to think that life continues on in some way.
And it is clear that God plays a prominent role in the transition process. The Pope is still alive, in spite of heart and kidney failure! While we are all obsessed waiting for his moment of death, God is here to show us a lesson about life--that we are never in control. No matter what we do or don't do, death occurs on its own time, in its own way.
Take the case of Terri Schiavo. I read that she received her last communion on Easter Sunday (she was also Catholic), and that was to be the only food or drink that she would receive in her last days. Yet, she survived an additional three days in a very Christ-like fashion. Despite the fact that we all knew the inevitable was on its way, it happened only when she was ready for her transition. The same thing will likely happen with the Pope.
And, the same thing will happen to all of us. Until then, have peaceful journey on the road of life.
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