A Life Worth Living

Among the many things that my dad has given me, is the strong conviction to live a life worth living. I am committed to loving passionately, leaving the world a tiny bit better because I was here and to never stop learning new tricks or taking new opportunities. It is regretfully not how I see my father’s life in the last twelve years and therefore I cannot bear to think of repeating his mistakes. Knowing he has not been happy with his life after retirement for which he worked so hard, makes loosing him all the more sad.

My father hates dialysis, even though it has been his lifeline for the past two years. He hates the very thing that is entirely responsible for giving him two years of life. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays my dad has gone to a dialysis center and been hooked up to a machine that functions similarly to his kidneys. Years of high blood pressure had deteriorated his kidneys and his heart attack left them inadequate to sustain his life. I used to call him during his dialysis and try to bring some laughter and cheer to that time, but little by little, it became harder and harder. Our conversations seemed like reruns, and I felt hopeless to affect any change in his mood. I tried talking about sports, world politics and even resorted to the weather. During the presidential campaign, when the front runners were a female and an African American man, I still could not get him to engage me about this historic election. As a teenager, we had heated discussions and even fights about women’s lib and race relations. Where was that man who could argue me into a frenzy of passion over what a woman should have the right to do or who could love whom? Finally I decided I would just give him an update on my life and mostly an update on his grandchildren. It was usually a one sided conversation. Rarely did he add anything he had done or thought to the conversation. The one bright spot was saying “I love you, Dad” and hearing, “I love you too, Babe. You take care of yourself.” To which I replied, “I always do.”

I always do, Dad, take care of myself. I make the plans and execute them. I take care of the business of life and look after myself. Is that part of what you taught me, by being an example of the opposite? My father has abdicated responsibility for making plans and taking care of family business to my mother, possibly from the beginning of their life together. She has managed the money, managed the house; managed the parenting; managed what little social life they had. She made all the plans and led the execution of those plans. By the time I was born she managed almost every aspect of his life, what he ate, his clean clothes, his schedule and most of his time. Today she is totally responsible for his very life. She sees that he gets food, medication and to dialysis. He cannot even tell you what medications he takes or when he had his last pain pill. My dad has given his life over to her complete control, but that is not such a big stretch from where it has been for several years. God help me, Dad, I never want to abdicate my life to another or to have them abdicate theirs to me until the moment there is no other choice.

In my last conversation with him, I was driving to work and the discussion led me to say I would probably never be able to retire; that I will work until I am physically or mentally unable. To which my father replied that retirement had not been good for him. He expressed unhappiness with this life since retiring and I can see it so clearly. I had many talks with him about finding a part-time job or volunteering and doing things that would put him in contact with others, able to make friends and have conversations about the weather. He would always agree that working, having a place to go and interacting with others would be preferable to sitting at home reading, napping and watching reruns. But, it was a conversation that never materialized into action. He always agreed that getting active would be good for him and yet never made a change. Did he just procrastinate so long that his health failed? Was he depressed? Was he paralyzed by the fear of something new?

I am left to contemplate how to give him even the slightest joy in these last weeks or months. I am left to contemplate how to use this perplexing experience to grow stronger in my resolve to stay engaged in life. I am left to contemplate how to tell you not to procrastinate in doing what makes your life worth living. Risk it all to find where your greatest passion intersects with the worlds greatest needs. Risk it all to experience passion and love that makes your heart sing. Risk it all to partake of the opportunities you are given. Don’t be afraid to risk living large.

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow!