Mortality in back of mind

Now is time for decisions

Will we ever be back?” is a question I’ve heard more than a few times during the pandemic, especially since my congregation is among the majority of Episcopal churches in the diocese that haven’t resumed in-person indoor worship yet. “This is a season,” I hear myself responding to folks, and I remind them that the 1918 influenza wasn’t over in a few months, either. We’ll get through this. Then, as now, we’ll do our best to keep ourselves and others safe: We’ll wear our masks, wash our hands and practice physical distancing.

There are no guarantees, however, even if we try to do everything right. Whether we’ve let this fact rise into our consciousness or not, it’s a present reality for everyone. Alongside the lack of control of the virus, there’s the inevitability of our own mortality. We make plans and have agendas like there’s no end to tomorrows, but maybe now is a time to talk openly about death. While we don’t likely know the day or hour of a natural death, we all know a day and time will come when we will die — unless you know something about physical immortality that I don’t!

There’s the logistical side to our dying, of course. Do we have an advanced directive? Do we know about hospice? Are our wills complete or up to date? Am I an organ donor? Once we are dead, it’s helpful to have already answered questions like: Do my beneficiaries know about my insurance policies? Have I even thought about what kind of funeral I will have or who will tend to my remains? There are also the spiritual and emotional aspects. What faith tradition do I identify with, if any at all? What do I think about death and dying? What kind of support network do I want for my survivors?

These questions are not all-inclusive, but they are often questions we push to the side because we’d rather not think about them at all. We may even be of the mind that if we’re dead, it’s not our problem. There’s truth to that, but there’s also the stark reality that someone will be caring for our body. Lucky for us, our compassion this side of Glory can long outlive our physical presence, like the stories of the many ways we shared our life and love and made the community better.

Chances are, we all know someone who will not be back with us when we gather again in person, whether they have died from covid-19 or something else. We are all grieving in real time, lamenting for people and events that we won’t have back. So we’ll do what people of all traditions and cultures have done since they could gather: share our stories, tell our tales. Who knows what people of 2120 will see or think of our time? Part of my hope is that they will see how we took care of the living and honored the dead.

The Rev. Sara Milford serves as Vicar of All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Bentonville. You can reach her at mothersara@allsaintsbentonville.org if you have a story or tale to tell.