It's not how he died, it's how he lived!

Many people go through life in a state of semi-consciousness, more dead than alive.  Many people also go through life living either in the past, or in the future.  A game often played by people living in the past is called "Remember when?" Remember when we went on holiday to the seaside in 1995? A game which can be played over and over again and always with the same predictable outcome.  A comforting sort of game for those involved in it, but tiresome for those who are not.

Living in the future manifests itself when one is dissatisfied with ones present life, and wishful thinking and daydreaming becomes a pleasant diversion.  This of course can reach a stage where a person is unable to differentiate fact from fiction.  The ideal is always to live fully in the present.

I knew a man who lived life this way.  His entire life was spent in the here and now.  When he and his family went on holiday, he would always say, "I'll take care of the outdoor stuff"  This meant that the trailer would be packed with wind surfers, body boards, snorkels and flippers.  He loved holidays.  In the evenings and weekends, he would spend a lot of time drawing pretty boarders around the outsides of postcards.  These would be sent to all sorts of competitions which he invariably won.  Cars, oversea's trips, fridges, watches, bottles of perfume and sunglasses.  His wife said she had a watch for every day of the week.  His theory was that whoever ran the competitions, would not be able to resist the brightly colored boarders, and choose his card. He was a man who lived life to the full and met every challenge head on, except for the one huge challenge, which eventually took his life.

The memorial service was held at a wedding venue out in the country, and far from the madding crowd.  Family and friends and work colleagues assembled in the rectangular building overlooking the large field of newly sprouting, green Spring grass. Under the blossoming apricot trees, stood tables laden with eats for the "after tears" party.  I have it on good authority from one of my friends, that this is what it is known as, in many of the South African cultures. 

The service itself was a very simple affair.  No prayers, no hymns, just seven people giving their eulogies on the life of a husband, father, brother, friend and colleague.  Each person had the same story to tell.  A man who loved life. A man who had a zest for life.  A man who when he walked into a room, brought the sunshine with him.  A man who never had a bad word to say about anyone.  But alas, as they say in the classics "All good things must come to an end," and this sadly happened when he developed a motor neuron disease, which robbed him of his dignity and finally of his life.

The onset of the disease was slow at first.  The loss of mobility and then the slow but relentless progression from stick, to crutches and eventually wheelchair.  The final straw was when he had to go to work wearing a nappy (diaper).  He tried hard to keep cheerful and make little jokes, but this burden proved to be too much for him, and finally, he gave up one day and hanged himself.

One of his best friends made a comment after the service, which I thought to be very profound.  "It's not how he died, it's how he lived."  And indeed, based on his life, he was a giant among men!