Unfinished business
Unfinished business
What will you leave behind when you die?
Today I buried another family member. My grandfather passed away exactly six months to the day after my parents. Poignant timing, one would say.
I am not sure if I want to be this familiar with funeral arrangements at this time, but nonetheless, here I am. Among funeral arrangements, I have been able to notice stark differences in the way I perceive varying family members.
In many ways, my parents and grandfather’s deaths could not be more dissimilar. One sudden, another prolonged, one unexpected, another anticipated, young and old, together and alone.
I would like to reflect again on one of my favorite illustrations of the modern world’s weak grasp of time. Consider the ancients, who could build cathedrals over the course of multiple lifetimes, yet we struggle with accomplishing year-long goals.
It begs the question, why are we here? what is our job? what are you meant to do?
This was very clear to my parents, and if it wasn’t clear, then they would just go wherever there was a need, and they would develop a passion for it later, but going was the first step. They walked by faith and relied on God for their finances and housing, not even owning a home by the time they passed. This is partially why there absence is felt so profoundly, because they left a vacuum. Their footsteps and fingerprints can be seen in all of the projects they were involved in and all of their unfinished projects. the magnitude of their lives can be felt in the amount of unfinished business and the size of the boots they left for us to fill.
Contrastingly, my grandfather, to put it concisely, wanted little and was content with little. and so he did not strive for much; he enjoyed his family and a few simple pleasures and partook of them religiously while anxiously awaiting his turn to ascend into heaven. Quietly, he lived; hence, quietly, he departed.
As far as I can tell, there is nothing wrong with being content with little. As I reflect on myself, how I would like to go, and how I would like to be remembered, I notice that it is far easier to feel and remember the absence of someone who was in the midst of accomplishing something greater than themselves. to be in the throw of projects, to be steeped in meaningful work, to create and give to the world. when you are giving and constantly pouring into the world and suddenly they are not there anymore, the world feels your absence all the more.
This is not a proclamation of what is right or wrong; I am not wise enough to decide, but rather my observation as someone blessed with the unfortunate perspective of being momentarily all too familiar with the burying of family.
What magnitude of unfinished business will you leave behind?
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