Lots left to do

My mom and dad used to pack us kids in the car to visit Grandma and Grandpa pretty regularly.  We had to drive past Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery to get there.  Every single time, looking at the headstones and mausoleums would make me very sad and get me thinking about my mortality.  I got pretty good at recognizing landmarks and knew when we were getting close, so I would always hide my head and try to think of something else or fall asleep because the thought of dying terrified me.

At about 5 or 6 years old, I remember crying to my mom and asking, “Does everybody die?”  I wasn’t prepared for her answer, as she told me the truth.  “Everybody dies, but nobody knows when, except God, so please don’t worry about it.”  But I did.  The thought of death occupied my thoughts on a daily basis, especially since Mom made us pray the Rosary every night.  The last line of the Hail Mary prayer is "Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death."  To my overactive and naive mind, this meant two things; I had been a bad kid and death was imminent.  Of course, since then I have come to know and love our Blessed Mother and the prayer that she wants us to pray.  She has helped me through countless times of worry and grief.

Eventually, I stopped being preoccupied with the thoughts and only occasionally would think about my own death.  I think that’s because when my reasoning kicked in about 7 or 8 I figured if I kept out of trouble and if I didn’t get hit by a car or some other tragedy didn’t befall me, I still had another 60 or 70 years and that was a long time.  I thought, “They might find a cure for death by then.”  Another reason I stopped worrying about dying was that I started Catechism classes and learned that God created us because He loves us and He loves us because He created us; that death in this life is just the beginning of our life with Him in Heaven—the life intended at the beginning of creation. 

I think my experience is pretty much the same as the disciples in Mark Gospel today (4:35-41), but not nearly as dramatic.  These men were in the boat with someone whom they believed to be the Messiah, and they were still afraid of death.  The lesson He taught them is the same lesson we can learn today.  If we truly have faith in His love and mercy, we have nothing to fear.  It’s a comfort to me knowing that these men who were afraid of death in the boat are the same men who later gladly gave up their lives to preserve the faith (except John, who we know died a natural death—although he did have his share of suffering and is considered a martyr).  I can only hope to be as brave and confident in the face of death when my time comes.  I no longer fear death.  But I'm not sure I welcome it, either.  There is a lot more I think that I am called to do for the Lord before I am called to my rest.  I’d like to think that I’m like my mom in that regard.   She used to say to me, “I still have lots and lots of prayers to say.  And much more penance to do.”  Amen, Mom.  Amen!