The young Chester J. Fair
This is hard to write. It brings up memories that mix joy and sorrow. But events in recent days have brought some moments in my personal journey to mind and heart.
I didn’t know Brittany Maynard, a young woman who committed “legal suicide” on Sunday. She had brain cancer and had been given a few months to live. She was suffering and wanted to end her life “on her own terms.” Perhaps she would have lived longer than expected. Perhaps she would have died sooner. We will never know.
I don’t know David Williams, a man featured in a LifeNews feature a couple days ago. Doctors told him he had six months to live – 13 years ago. He has had surgeries and chemotherapy and all sorts of medications. He can’t work a “normal” job – but counsels others and is a witness to his faith. He says that cancer has, for him, been a blessing.
I did know Chester J. Fair, my father, who died of a brain tumor 30 years ago. Ours was not an easy relationship, but knowing he likely had but a few months to life following his diagnosis changed that. We spent more time together (yes, quality time) during those few months than we had in the previous 20 years. We told stories, laughed and treasured the simplest things of each day. The members of our family drew closer. My mom learned how deeply she was loved by friends and neighbors who supported her with time and prayers.
A few years later, I knew a man named Jim (no, not me), who I sponsored in his candidacy to join the Church. He had a brain tumor, but had been treated and given a clean bill of health. Since my father had died from a tumor, our pastor thought Jim and I (the two Jims, as we would be known) would be the perfect duo to go through RCIA. It was a beautiful experience. But less than a year later, the tumor returned and despite the best medical efforts, Jim was dead in a few months. He was courageous and deeply loved by his wife and children. His funeral was faith-filled, a celebration of all he had meant – and would continue to mean – to those he touched before and during his illness.
And I also knew a man, Fr Alvero Corcuera LC, who died earlier this year after battling a brain tumor for several years. I was blessed to be able to talk with him a couple times in his final months and was struck by his joy, humor, humility and acceptance of God’s will. He modeled what it means to be a man of faith and I pray to have that ability when I am in a similar situation; the reality is that most of us will be; we just don’t know when.
My point in all of this isn’t to suggest that we ought to be thrilled when we get a brain tumor or congratulate someone we love when they get one. Having observed the dying process from this sort of thing I can tell you that it isn’t pleasant. But I also know with total conviction in my soul that God’s plan goes far beyond a person’s current “quality of life” and whether they are still able to do the things they loved to do when they were in perfect health. There are issues far beyond a patient being uncomfortable or being a “burden” to those providing care.
I believe God spoke to me during the last months of my dad’s life, during my interactions with my friend Jim and in the witness of Fr Alvaro. And had they chosen to end their lives on human terms rather than Godly terms, there is much of lasting value I would have missed.
Our death, like our life, is connected to all our family, friends and people we interact with. Who is to say when it is time to sever those connections? Well, I don’t think doctors, patients or the rest of us humans have that sort of wisdom. God does. I want him to decide matters of life and death.
