How does a family face death at Christmas?

Friday, Dec. 12, 2014

It is Christmas time and my aunt is dying.

You can tell me that death is part of life; that my aunt is going home to God; that, at 83, she has had a good long life. All that may be true, but to my ears it sounds like mere platitudes.

While the airways are filled with songs insisting that this is “the most wonderful time of the year” and other such cheer, I’m dealing with my family’s anger and fear and frustration and grief. What do I say to my uncle, who is watching his wife of more than 65 years waste away while, because of his own health problems, he can’t care for her? What do I say to my cousins, who are watching helplessly as both their parents slowly diminish? What do I say to my other aunts and my mother, whose oldest sister is dying and with that comes the knowledge that their own days on this earth likely now are numbered?

I don’t think it’s realistic to pray to God that my aunt be healed. Should I pray instead that she continue to live, dependent on others for much of her care, when for decades she was a strong woman who cared for her family and community? Is it wrong of me to pray that death comes quickly to her, to end her suffering? 

The Bible isn’t much help in these matters. There’s Saint Paul, insisting that he wants to die to be with Christ. My response is, “Bully for you, St. Paul, but I don’t think my cousins want their mother to go anywhere. Some of them aren’t religious; would you mind telling me how to explain to them that they should rejoice that their mother soon will be with them no longer?”

Saint James isn’t much better than St. Paul, saying one’s life “is a mist that appears for a little while, and then vanishes.” True, that, but not comforting in the least.

The most hopeful Bible verse I found is Revelations saying that in the new heaven and new earth, “death will be no more; neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more.” 

Unfortunately, while that thought may be appropriate for the current season of Advent, when we are looking forward to the future coming of Christ, it does nothing right now to ease my family’s suffering.

In one sense, I’m lucky. I can sit here in Utah and look for answers in Scripture while my aunt is dying in California. Phone calls filter the mess and fuss of the process. Other than providing a listening ear, I’m not asked for much.

On the other hand, being so far away means I can’t help with anything, either. My excuse is that I can’t take the time off work, but if I’m completely honest I have to admit that I’m grateful that I don’t have to deal firsthand with the crushing family emotions, or the mess of cleaning up after a sick person. I hated doing that when I babysat – I don’t want to have to do it for an adult I knew as a woman full of life.

Instead, I go through my daily routine pretty much as usual except for the phone calls, when I listen helplessly to my mother and cousin dealing with the drama of death of the woman they love. I try to pray, but I don’t know what to say, and I wish people Merry Christmas, because after all it is that time of year.