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Commentary
AGING WELL: Well with my soul Missy Buchanan, Sep 9, 2008
Missy Buchanan
By Missy Buchanan Special Contributor
I tried not to laugh when my 99-year-old friend told me that she had just bought a new leather sofa. I silently wondered why anyone at her ripe age would buy something so expensive. But that’s what I loved about Rita. She was feisty and funny.
The last time I visited Rita, she had celebrated her century-mark birthday. Amazingly, she sat cross-legged on the new sofa. We reminisced about her birthday bash and the beautiful, pale pink suit she had worn.
Not long after, I attended her funeral. She wore the pale pink suit. She had died in her sleep in her senior apartment. Her devotional book was opened to the reading of the day.
Word of Rita’s death circulated through the senior center where she had lived for many years. I could detect a hint of envy in the response of other residents. “That’s how I want to go,” they’d say. “In my sleep. At home.”
It is a common refrain among older adults. Most hope the journey will not end in a nursing home or hospital bed. But for many of us, it will. I was reminded of this recently as I visited my 98-year-old uncle in a nursing facility. He had lived independently until just a few months ago. His mind is alert, but his body is worn out.
Thankfully, the care facility is clean and bright. The staff is professional and friendly. Still, it feels like an institution.
After talking about his great-grandchildren and dominoes, I asked him about the transition to the nursing home. He smiled and lifted his boney shoulders. “You know, I just need extra help now. But it’s OK. All is well.”
There was no hint of resentment. No grin-and-bear-it attitude. Just a quiet, thoughtful acceptance that comes from a deep faith. He has the assurance of a better tomorrow.
I experienced that kind of faith with my father in an unexpected way. The day before he died, I had slipped away from his hospital room to check on my mother at the senior center where they lived. Everyone knew that the table next to his recliner in the living room was hands-off territory.
There was an assortment of telephone numbers, an old football schedule and a recipe he’d jotted down from the Food Network. There were also out-of-date reminder cards for the barber, a battery charger, two flashlights, a measuring tape and a paper cup filled with pencils.
Before returning to the hospital, I felt a strong urge to straighten his table a bit. I sensed that visitors might be stopping by to see my mother. So with a slight grin, I silently asked for my dad’s forgiveness and began my task. That’s when I discovered the small paper on which he had written the titles of two hymns: “This is My Father’s World” and “It is Well With My Soul.”
It took my breath away.
I knew this was not just another scrap of paper. These were hymns he had carefully selected for his memorial service. I placed the paper in my Bible and took it to the hospital to confirm with him what I had found.
Death is not far from the thoughts of most older adults. We may not have a choice about how we die, but we have a choice about how to live.
When it’s my turn, I’d like to go like Rita. In my sleep. At home with a new leather sofa. But even if I don’t, it is well with my soul.
Ms. Buchanan, a member of FUMC Rockwall, Texas, is the author of Living with Purpose in a Worn Out Body. Web site: www.missybuchanan.com.
Missy Buchanan
