Alone

                At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing. (Job 1:20-22)

           “We are all alone, born alone, die alone ..." (Hunter S. Thompson)

          It’s not unusual for people to disagree with me – even people I consider friends. So in that sense, tonight is not unusual. Some people find it highly offensive that I am not devastated by those suffering from COVID-19. And they’re right. I wish I were more moved by their plights – but those who are in the hospital are unknown to me, and a hundred or more miles away. Even if their faces were put on the internet, and their stories told, they are someone that neither I nor my tears can help.

          People who don’t know me, but don’t approve of my response stand in judgment of my Christianity and withdraw their friendship from me. People who don’t know me rebuke me because they say I am callous about the fate of these people who must die alone, separated from their families.

          And January, 1996 comes to mind, when I sat with my mother, having watched her slowly die for I don’t know how long. I sat holding her hand that morning when she died. And as I look back, she died alone, because, by the time she died, she had already left us.

          I think of July 2015, when my father, my nephew and I all converged in Zephyrhills, FL, because my brother had died alone on an unairconditioned porch and had not been found for (probably) a week after he died.

          I think of March 6. 2019, when I called the hospice nurse because Dad sounded like he had bubbles popping in his chest. And then, several hours later, waking up and (at least in my mind) telling him goodbye as he slipped away. As far as we can tell, he died as a result of dementia, which means that even though I was there, he was alone.

          I think of the fact that I’m not married, and my family is a long way away. Yes, possibly, someday I’ll go live with them. And yes, I have lots of friends that I have hope won’t desert me when I need them, but chances are better than not that I will die alone. It’s not a happy thought, but it’s a reality I’ve faced for years. Whether I die in the next three weeks or last another forty years, that’s just the way it is. I will live alone, and I will die alone.

          I don’t know if the quote by Mr. Thompson is the one I originally heard, but I think there’s some truth to at least part of what he says. We all die alone. Jesus certainly felt that He died alone, because He cried out to God, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

          And I can understand how that is deeply disturbing to some people far more than it is to me. Some of them are hip-deep in it. It’s what they see. It’s their reality. My reality is away from the hospitals, out among people who are trying to figure out how to live, who feel abandoned by a community that is so busy trying to escape death that it’s forsaken the living and life.

          But the other thing that comes to mind is that we all have it all wrong. Mr. Thompson, my friend who unfriended me, the doctor, and me – all wrong. Because death isn’t the end, and because we don’t die alone. There is Another, who waits by our side, waiting to welcome us home, or hoping to hear that cry for help and forgiveness that will free them so He can welcome them home.

          This isn’t justification for hard-heartedness on our part. But it’s a reality check that I need, and I think that we all need. We don’t die alone. We don’t live alone. We are called to love one another at all times. It is wrong to disregard those who are dying. It is also wrong to disregard those who are trying to figure out how to live.