The man was entering his final moments. He was alternately shifting from a state of consciousness to unconsciousness. His speech was slurred and illogical. The relatives –especially his children– were more anxious than sorrowful. Anxious because they knew he had 5 billion dollars in his account. Only he knew the account numbers.
The children took turns keeping vigil over their dying father. They desperately hoped that one of them would be lucky enough to ‘extract’ from him the secret combination to his wealth and other possessions. If only for a few seconds, the ‘old man’ could recover and whisper the magic number!
* * *
A few weeks ago I was conversing with a man who was diagnosed with a very acute cancer. The doctors gave him between three to six months. Our Lord, the best doctor, gave Him less than that. Nope, I never succeeded in extracting any ‘secret combination’ from this man. However, before leaving for Heaven he left me something better.
He had lived what would commonly be called a full life. In reality, we don’t really know what a full life means since there is really no measure to that fullness. We simply try our best to live our life whether short or long and that’s all there is to it. Only God can give measure and weight to our life: how it has been lived entirely loving Him.
The man, however, had another idea of full. Full meant having indulged himself in every conceivable worldly thought, word and act. All throughout that foolish fullness, he could not help but repeat his gratefulness towards God because He had always shown him His guiding hand.
God’s hand led him to that moment, in that hospital, upon that very bed where he was being diagnosed and treated for his illness.
Before our meeting, a relative wanted to help prepare him for his final chapter. He called me and explained to me the man’s situation physiologically and spiritually.
“He might want to see a priest…but if you suddenly popped into his room then he might just change his mind,” his relative said.
“So how are we going to ‘play’ this one?” I asked.
“Let’s just tell him that I bumped into you in the hospital…, and…ah…that I just invited you to…perhaps, give him a blessing…?” he suggested.
“Exactly what color is that lie?” I asked with a smile.
“Father, I suppose it’s for his own good.”
I played along with his proposal.
Surprisingly, the sick man was not only open to seeing me. He also wanted some time to talk with the ‘accidental priest’ and share a little about his full life. With unexpected but positive reaction, his relatives cordially excused themselves and left us to ourselves.
Did this man have the combination to some safe containing 5 or more billion dollars? He had no such secret, but he had something more valuable: a lesson about life and death.
We spent nearly an hour talking. He told me a bit about his life, the many things he regretted (really not very different from yours and mine) and what he was willing to do if God gave him ‘another life.’
Above all, he was more eager to share with me the ‘graces’ he had received and how good God had been to him all these years despite his full life.
Suddenly, in the course of our familiar conversation, he realized it was already three o’clock. He interrupted me and asked, “Father, if you don’t mind. Can we say the prayer to the Divine Mercy?”
“Of course, I would gladly pray it,” I said.
“Okay, you can lead,” he gave me the floor.
“Frankly I don’t memorize the prayer,” I confessed.
“You don’t?” He was amused.
“I’m sorry, but that is one prayer I haven’t memorized.”
He smiled understandingly at me.
“Why don’t you lead, and I will follow you,” I suggested.
“Splendid…,” was his reply.
At that very moment our roles changed. He became the ‘priest’ and I was the ‘penitent.’ Not in the ministerial way, but more of the fatherly and guiding manner. He recited word after word from heart to tongue. He closed his eyes, pronounced and savored every petition for God’s mercy with all his soul.
I simply followed. I felt like I was a dog on a leash trying to catch up with his master jogging at top-speed towards the coveted finish line. And I even didn’t understand –because I’m a dog– why the master was running so fast.
However, he knew exactly why.
“Amen….”
“Thank you so much, Father,” he said.
“Thanks to you,” I corrected him.
“Why so?”
“Because you have taught me a new combination today.”
* * *
I believe that this short narration will give each one a different perspective of life and death. What lesson did I learn? A simple one: how to live fully one’s death. It may sound like a contradiction, but it isn’t.
This man was already dying. Yet, he could at a very precise moment carry on with a prayer, a simple but heartfelt one, as though he were not at all bothered or pressured by his brief and fragile existential condition.
This was his secret combination to enter Heaven’s gates. He was dying…and yet he was very much alive in his faith, hope and love: a life that was being lived to the full at the hour of his death.