Crossing the Bar

Our local funeral home posts notices of deaths and memorial services in the post office. This morning a new notice appeared of a 25 year-old man and as I and a woman I didn't know read the notice, she said: “He was far too young.” I agreed, “He certainly was.”

Far too young. An aunt died recently at age 101; she'd wished for years that she could "cross the bar" but surmised that her pilot had forgotten about her, and so failed to call her home. Alfred Lord Tennyson's image of life fading into the great unknown includes a harbour, a boat, an ocean and crossing the harbour-bar to put out into the great sea.

How we see the significance of the short span of life that is our lot probably makes an enormous difference to how we choose to occupy our days: our thoughts, our dreams, our activities. The psychology of perception very nearly suggests that the universe exists only in human consciousness; that for you and me and every other individual, it effectively began at our first conscious moment and as effectively ends with our final breath. Awareness, consciousness is the only everything.

Various religions have in common the posing of an antidote to what is potentially a hopeless outlook, especially at times when physical death is imminent. The thought of our universe and everything in it ceasing to exist is, for many, unbearable, illogical, even cruel. Most religions posit a sphere of existence independent of the restrictions of physical birth, the day-to-day and death. A sphere that is not subject to the restrictions of human consciousness and understanding. A sphere that lives only through faith in the existence of a spiritual reality not tied to human perceptive limits.“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

In contrast, one can think of a life as a package, it's ability to contain limited by its size and structure. As our consciousness grows and develops, we are equipped to make judgments about what will and will not be contained in the package. Choices are important, a time comes when the package is finished and the wrapping goes on. Seeking good things to store in the package, throwing out what is not is our life's task. Describing finally the contents of the closed package is the job of the one writing our obituary, our eulogy, the witness of those who knew us.

Mind you, no two packages ever look alike. Some of us are granted a very small one, some a huge one. The bigger the package, the greater the obligation to build, prune, shape its contents.

None of the metaphors for the meaning of a life-lived strike me as satisfactory. Embracing one negates another one that's probably equally valid. And as I stand before the display board in the post office, ponder and say, “He certainly died too young,” I realize that I don't really have a clue, at least not enough of one to say with confidence, “He certainly died too young.” Perhaps the package that was his life was full to the brim with good things. Perhaps it was absolutely the right time to wrap it in shiny paper, bind it with a silk ribbon and place it on a high shelf.

25 yr. Package. 100 yr. Package. A member of our parliament stood up in the Commons a few days ago and shared his anguish at the death of a daughter who lived for only 39 days. His sorrow and the empathy, sympathy of other members was palpable.

I leave off my musings with those of Alfred Lord Tennyson, one of the metaphors I go to when friends and family members tie a ribbon on their packages and I'm left to place it sorrowfully on the high shelf.

The Crossing of the Bar

Sunset and evening star, 
  And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
  When I put out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep
  Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
  Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
  And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
  When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
  The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
  When I have cross'd the bar.