Mortality
Medical School Class
“On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend’s life also, in our own, to the world.”—Henry David Thoreau.
In 2018, we attended our fiftieth medical school reunion. One of the most surprising developments I never envisioned was the substantial number of classmates who had died. We were invincible, ready to take on whatever came our way. We had overcome almost every possible hardship, including abuse, prejudice, poverty, humiliation, ridicule, and whatever else was presented to us. We knew how to work without sleep, be shamed for what we did not know in front of peers, and read and study until it seemed our eyes were coming out of our heads.
But our death was never part of our own plan. It was something that happened to those we were unable to save.
We constantly walked with death and still remember every face of those we could not save because of our own ignorance or because the medical science that could have saved them was not yet developed. We never imagined that those with whom we worked so closely, sharing a common experience, would no longer be alive. How did they die? Was it a lengthy illness? We search for their obituaries: Ken, Jim, Charles.
Of course, this has been a wake-up call about our mortality. There is always the question of why we are still alive while they are not. Did we take better care of ourselves, or do we have better genes? Today, I simply know that most answers are out of our reach.
More and more, we have to live into mystery. We also want to thank those with whom we weathered a wilderness adventure. Somehow, each of them contributed to our becoming the person God created us to be. We send prayers of thanksgiving to them for how their lives touched ours. We also ask for their prayers until we reconnect with them and learn even more about each other.
We look forward to continuing our journey together with the God of our understanding, surrendering, trying to live one day at a time, being grateful for each day, and enjoying the journey without needing to know all the answers this time.
Last year, my husband planned another reunion, and we are planning another one for next year. There is something unique about the bond we shared with friends during our first walks, learning about life and death, that words cannot express. Only the heart knows.
Thanksgiving, All Saints, All Souls, and Advent are special times to remember and give thanks for old friends who shared our journey, both those who are still alive and those who have died.
Joanna. joannaseibert.com