If I had to define my job as a chaplain with one verb, it would be listen. Chaplains are trained to listen well. It is by listening that we get to know the other person's shared humanity. By listening, we come to recognize the soul. Sometimes we listen to take a person deeper into what they are sharing. At other times we listen simply to bear witness.
When I accompany families in bereavement, I have the honor of listening to stories about the dying patient told by their loved ones. By being an outsider in the room with them, I become a reason for them to share stories about the one who is dying. They educate me about the individual's personality; including their idiosyncrasies and quirks. They fill me in on the history of their lives and loves. Sometimes the stories are funny and the room fills with laughter and joy - a temporary relief from the heaviness the family has been feeling. Then the pendulum of mood swings back toward sadness as more tragic accounts and events are remembered. Underneath every story is the realization that the patient will no longer be here to tell their own stories anymore.
I listen to these stories that are presented. Nodding and smiling appropriately, occasionally I'll ask a follow up question. And I take note as the wording changes. There is a switching back and forth between referring to the patient in the present and the past tenses. The family tries out the language of grief. They sense their comfort one moment and then perhaps revert back the next. I hang in the balance with them as they seek to figure it out.
Lewis' family shared lots of stories in his final moments. He was surrounded by his wife, his two sisters, one brother, his daughter, two nieces, one nephew and a few family friends. I spent an hour listening to their stories. These are a few of them.
“My brother is a good cook. He would fry up turkeys all the time in the backyard. That was his specialty. But above all, my brother loves scallions. He puts them in everything. Most people use onions or other herbs, nope, he uses scallions. Scallions in burgers, rice, salads, he put them on the turkey too. He would get worried when he ran out, he would always say "I gotta get to the store and get some scallions." The people at the store now will probably wonder why they have so many scallions when they used to sell so much. They'll miss him!”
“Lewis has style. He loves picking out his clothes and getting his hair done. He even goes to the nail salon. They know him there. I don't get my nails done, but he gets his done once a week. And boy does he like accessorizing. He has these crazy alligator shoes. We were going to have a party for him next week for his birthday. He was so excited. He already had his outfit picked out. It's been hanging right there, all put together in the closet. Maybe that's what I'll bury him in. I mean, not the shoes maybe. I'll save those, they're expensive and I think I'd like to give them to one of his sons. They don't really need shoes do they? You never see anyone's feet at the wake.”
“He loves to dance, especially to the oldies. He was at a wedding last week, while everything was still looking good. He was the king of the dance floor and he has these crazy moves, and he went like this (thrusts his hip back and forth quickly) and knocked this poor guy to the floor. (The victim turned out to be an aging local celebrity) And his bodyguards ran over, they thought he was trying to pick a fight, but Lewis didn't even realize what had happened, he went on dancing and then the bodyguards realized he didn't mean any harm. It was funny though. If I ever see (the celebrity) around town, I'm going to ask him about it. I bet he'll remember Lewis!”
“He was a good dad. Always there for his daughter. And for everyone really. He has a good heart, you know. Just saw to it that everyone was taken care of. When his daughter was little, he found out that another kid in school didn't have heat during the winter. The kid's family couldn't afford it. Wouldn't you know that he talked to some shops and businesses and convinced them to sponsor this family, to pay their heating bills. And he didn't make any fuss about it either. There aren't too many men around anymore who have a heart like that. It's a shame we're losing one when they're so rare.”
You’ve probably heard similar stories about loved ones while sitting shiva, or at a repast meal after the funeral, or the bar (if you’re a member of my family). Hearing stories like this always leads me to wonder what loved ones will say about me in these moments after my death. Perhaps you’ve wondered similarly.
What are the stories that will be told about you?
Which of your own mannerisms will be remarked upon?
Which qualities touted?
What legacy will you leave behind?
What are you doing to live into that legacy now?
Whenever I lead Organ Donation memorial services, I read a poem that always seems to resonate deeply with those present. Maybe it will also inspire you as you contemplate your own stories and the impact of your life.
The Dash by Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
from the beginning...to the end.
He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.For it matters not, how much we own --
the cars...the house...the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.
So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.If we could just slow down enough
to consider what's true and real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more,
and love the people in our lives
like we've never loved before.If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering this special dash
might only last a little while.So, when your eulogy is being read
with your life's actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent your dash?
This was a beautiful read, thank you. Lewis sounds like he was a wonderful person, I hope he appreciated being buried in his party clothes ♥️
What a beautiful and poignant reflection on the role of a chaplain and the power of listening in moments of grief. You bring comfort and solace to those you accompany during such difficult times.