When It’s Time to Let Go…

I was walking through my quiet neighborhood early one recent morning. The sun had just risen; everything was crystal clear in the chilly first light of day, and perfectly still. No wind, no sound save a far-off flock of crows. As I walked, I noticed leaves falling from the brown winter oaks. Not a blizzard of leaves, swirling and tumbling along the ground in a gusty wind. No, these leaves were drifting straight down, one by one, and settling gently on the ground. I thought to myself, why is THIS the moment those leaves fall? They’ve clung to their branches all winter, through snow and ice and wind, without loosening their hold. And now, as spring dawns, they’re simply letting go. Because it’s their time.

Since having cancer, I’ve become all too familiar with the end of life. More than once, I’ve witnessed the long walk towards death. Some people go calmly, almost gladly. They’re satisfied with what they’ve done, where they’ve been, WHO they’ve been. They’re ready to move on to whatever comes next. Sure, they’re apprehensive; but they’re not fighting. They believe it’s their time to let go.

Other people fight death every step of the way. They’re furious they’re leaving life a life they feel they haven’t yet fully lived. They still have places to visit, responsibilities to fulfill, children or grandchildren to watch over. They’re agitated, searching relentlessly for one more treatment to try: a last-ditch clinical trial, a European drug not yet approved in this country. They go down fighting, often moving restlessly in bed even as their final moments approach.

What is it in us, I wonder, that determines how ready we are for death–how willing we are to let go of life? Several months ago, I was privileged to hear a speech by Dr. Ira Byock, a nationally known authority on end-of-life issues. Past president of the American Academy of Hospice and Palliative Medicine; co-founder, Reclaiming the End of Life initiative; and director of palliative medicine and survivorship at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center here in New Hampshire, Dr. Byock has written two critically acclaimed books: “Dying Well,” and “The Four Things That Matter Most.”

Byock, speaking to an audience of breast cancer survivors, said, “Mortality can teach us a lot about life–if we let it. Where one would expect only suffering and misery, tragedy and sorrow, we also find moments of joy, moments of celebration and laughter. It doesn’t seem expected or seemly; but they’re there. When pretense falls away, the things that matter most come to the surface… Awareness of mortality can inform our life, and need not lead to lifelong depression. When cancer strikes, death is there; it becomes the phone that won’t stop ringing. The phone call from someone you really don’t want to talk to. It’s only by answering the call that you can make the ringing stop.”