Most days, I will have dozens of conversations with dozens of different people from dozens of different walks of life. We will talk about the weather and how it makes them hurt, we will talk about their grandchildren and how spoiled they are, and we will even chat about their favorite recipes. You would be surprised how open some people get when you have the opportunity to spend a couple of hours a week with someone. I tend to be pretty chatty myself, so I am never surprised at the openness some people have about the type of conversations they want to have.
On occasion, and probably more often than you would think, I do get the deeper ones, the ones that people tend to look around the room before asking, the subjects that you can tell they have deep questions about, but really don’t have anyone to ask. You see, I work in a world where I may talk to someone more than they talk to their own spouse, more than their own children. And unfortunately from time to time, I may be the only person some people actually talk to at all.
I work in a world of full of people who suffer, and not just the physical kind.
So I am not surprised when the questions come. I have spoken to these people about a battery of many topics, and we have gotten very close because of it. They feel safe, they feel heard, and more importantly, they feel seen and understood. Probably the most important thing you can say to someone that suffers, both mentally and physically is this…I believe you.
I am not their priest, nor pastor, nor Rabbi. I am not some spiritual know it all that has all the answers in the universe about love, life, or marriage, but I do possess something that the aforementioned group doesn’t, and that is availability and relatability, and yes, sometimes even compassion.
“What do you think happens when we die?”
This is the one I do get a lot, perhaps more than one would seem. The question does’t come in the form of “is there a Heaven or a Hell, it is not earmarked with a preface of “Do you believe in God”, it is simply a childlike question from a person usually and generally wondering, “what happens when we die, what physically happens?”
Normally by the time this questions comes, I have a good idea of who the person is, where they are coming from with the sincerity of it all. Most of the time the person is either older, has experienced some sort of passing of someone significant in their life, or quite the opposite, they have little to none worldly knowledge on the subject. But most of all, they are seeking some sore of assurance , some little glimmer of ease and comfort that their life was important, that it will be okay.
Some come with the preconceived notion of Heaven, others are not so sure, but all come with the sense of fear to some extent, and I can’t say I don’t blame them. I may be the best, or perhaps the worst, person to talk about his subject with. I may be a little too philosophical for some and maybe too scientific for others. We may discuss the Bible if they are a believer, or we may talk about the Stoics if they are not. But the bottom line is a long and hopefully therapeutic discussion will be had, and a sense of clarity found.
My job is not to convert, confuse, or convict, since many of the people are asking for answers, not judgment.
Most people have a fear of death, and rightfully so. The thought of being here one day, and then gone the next, to never see your loved ones again can be overwhelming, even panic inducing. So when I am asked about my own opinion, about my own beliefs of death and the other side, my answer is simple, but my explanation is long.
I don’t know.
Of course when pressed with the idea, I do tell people that I do believe that something is out there, something magical, and wonderful and full of love. I don’t talk about streets of gold, or clouds or trumpets, I simply say I don’t know, well because, I simply don’t know what it is. I think the other side of the mountain is beautiful, in a way that we cannot even imagine to describe, and I don’t waste my time trying to paint a picture where the colors are beyond my understanding.
But I do talk about how I plan to get there.
This is the part of the conversation that people really want to talk about, the part when we are at the finish line, hands are on the door knob, eyes about to shut. This is the part most people are scared about, and this where the real conversation begins.
I will ask if they know the story of Charon’s Obol. Initially most people will say no, will say they haven’t a clue about what I am talking about. Then I tell them about the placing of coins on they eyes of the dead, to pay for passage across the River Styx, to the other side. Of course they have heard of this, but didn’t know the ferryman’s name was Charon or that the coin/fee was called an Obol. The reason I tell this story, ask about their understanding of it, is because to me it is a wonderful parable, a terrific way to take the conversation on a different approach.
And this is the key to the whole conversation, to find your Charon’s Obol.
The looks may get a little awkward, but then I will talk about the movie scene, the one most people have never seen, or if they have watched the movie, don’t remember the scene at all. But to me, it is one of the most important scenes in cinematic history.
The movie is The Grey. It came out is 2011 and stars Liam Neeson as Ottway, a hired killer that leads a group of rough men through the Alaskan wilderness after their plane crashes, and are faced with the danger of wolves tracking them. The entire film to me is a great masterpiece in human survival, but there is one scene, the one that occurs after the plane crashes, that I feel helps with my conversation.
You may choose to watch the scene below(warning, there are some curse words towards the end). A man named Lewenden is bleeding badly due to the crash. They ask Ottway to help, to save the man’s life, to do what every hero in every movie you have ever scene does. Ottway assesses the man’s situation, he looks at the bleeding, he comes up with a plan.
He tells the man he is dying. He tells him the truth.
At first watching, most people will see just another death scene in just another movie. But to look at the scene in more scrutiny, you have to understand that the writers don’t tell the dying man that it will be “okay” that he is going to make it, just have faith and everything will be fine, you will live. No, they decide to do what is necessary and right, that instead of trying to give the man comfort in living , they tell him the truth, and help him have comfort in dying. Ottway tells him what is happening, and more importantly, he helps him find his Charon’s Obol.
“Who do you love?” Ottway will ask the man calmly, after asking him to let his thoughts go, the thoughts that are keeping him in the fear and panic.
“Rosy”, you can barely hear Lewenden answer back, his daughter.
“Let her take you there”, Ottway, whispers.
The scene ends with Lewenden passing peacefully and calmly, the fear gone, the acceptance of what is on the other side realized. Ottway has seen death many times in his life, he understands it is merely a journey from this place to the next. But he helps the audience understand that we don’t have to make that passage alone, that we need something from this place to take us to the other, that the love we created here is the love that carries us to the place where love was created in the very beginning.
He teaches us that we need to find our own Charon’s Obol.
So this is what I tell the patients that ask, this is the long story short, the key to the door if you will. I simply tell them that I don’t know for sure what to expect on the other side of this long sleep, that we all have our own beliefs and we all have our own hopes. But I do know this, that we all need the the thing that takes us there, we all need to find our Obol, the object that will calm us and let us know that we did good and we will be fine. We all need to find the thing that helps us understand love, because we all came from it.
And then I show them mine.
I have my Obol, my token to give to the ferryman. But mine is a prayer, the “what’s the code word” for the door that opens to the other side. I let them listen, but only the ones that seem to be really interested, the ones that seem a bit lost, and a lot scared.
I let them listen to my prayer, the one that I often have to play in my head from time to time to remind myself that this life will be okay too, that this moment of stress or discomfort, that this too shall pass, just like the life I live. I tell them I found my Opal several years ago, that I have had the chance to find a new one, to change it, to replace it, but this is the one I choose to keep, this is the version that I cherish the most, the one that shows me the most love, the one that gives me the most peace.
So here is my Obol, my fee to the ferryman, if you would like to hear it. This is my prayer that I pray to remind me that love is here now, that love will be there too. I say it to calm me, I say it to remind me, and I say it to you now in hopes that you find your prayer, your Obol, your own token that will help you.
One day, when the light gets brighter like a rising sun that slowly and warmly grows larger and larger and engulfs my being. When I feel my body start to float because gravity no longer exists, nor does time, nor does hate. When I feel the love of something or someone bigger than what I can possible imagine start to pull me in, this is the prayer that will be on my lips, this is the last thought that will be on my mind. This is my Obol that will deliver me to the new morning.
(push play)
AMEN.
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