[Oe List ...] completing life with equanimity

[David Dunn]

On 2/12/06 1:36 AM, "Richard and Maria Maguire" wrote:

> We were saddened to hear today that George Yost has died, and so soon after
> Ruthe.  

George's and Ruthe's deaths are the second time I've been aware of one of
the gracious mysteries of faith: that people who hold on to life on behalf
of a beloved partner sometimes quickly choose to join them in death.

I had this experience with my own parents. After my mother died July 16,
2001, it was very clear that my father's final purpose in life had been
fulfilled. He relaxed, lost interest in eating or exercise, and died his
death on July 26th, just nine days later. The clergyman who conducted both
memorial services commented during my father's service, "You know, there is
something kind of romantic about Dr. Dunn's death."

His point is profound. I picture George, having sent Ruthe on, relaxing and
descending calmly into the gracious Hands of Being into whose care he had
sent his beloved.



My mother was unconscious for the last 48 hours of her life, protected as
she needed to be from the consuming pain of cancer. Dad, on the other hand,
was lucid until the moment of his death. He slept fitfully his last night,
full, it seemed to me, of wonder at the process that he had witnessed, once
removed, throughout a professional career. As his lungs filled with fluid
from congestive heart failure, he remained the consummate physician. Every
time he awakened he checked his pulse, palpated his chest, and without
hesitation or regret, watched his own dying with self-awareness and
equanimity.* As he tried to orient himself within the world he was leaving,
with a light of fascination on his face, his last words included
'wonderful,' and 'amazing.'

George's and Ruthe's lives were both wonderful and amazing.

And so, it seems, were there deaths.


David Dunn 



* One of my father's heroes was the great physician, clinician and teacher
from the early 20th century, William Osler. For my dad's graduation from
medical school, his brother gave him a collection of essays for medical
students that my dad had prized highly entitled 'Equanimitas,' i.e., the
'personal quality of calmly accepting whatever comes in life.'