posted 24 Oct 2012, 11:49 by Akasharaja Bruton [ updated 12 hours ago ]
On my desk at home I have a picture postcard from the Hermitage gallery in St. Petersburg. On the back in my mother’s slightly spidery handwriting there is the usual brief and breezy holiday greeting from the cruise she and dad were on. The postcard was posted on August 26 in Tallinn, Estonia. During the cruise it seemed that mum had pulled a muscle and she was in quite a lot of pain, which continued when she got home. About a week later she was admitted to hospital for tests. A week after that, on September 15, she was dead, overcome by the tumour which had been growing on her liver.
Fortunately, I and most of the rest of the family were able to see her the evening before she died. I’m so glad that I was able to tell her how grateful I was for everything she’d done and assure her that her children and grandchildren had turned out well, something she could be very satisfied with. I was also glad, even though it was a bit strange for me as an ordained Buddhist, to stand up a couple of weeks later in the church in which I had been baptised to tell the packed congregation about my mum as I knew her. I have to say it was comforting to see a lot of familiar faces from my childhood, even though I have since taken another path. I was moved to see the obvious expressions of love for my mum and dad. I’m still moved now.
Mum didn’t want to go. The weekend before she had told me that there was so much she still wanted to be part of and experience before her death. She had agreed to a course of chemotherapy and wanted to fight her corner against the cancer. But there simply wasn’t time; it was all so fast.
My point is this: we can never know when our time is up, so we should live our lives as fully as possible. Every day could be the last day we have. When I spoke about mum in the church and heard other friends and family members talk about her, I realised just how full her life had been. Most importantly, perhaps, it was defined by the love and care she felt for many, not just those close to her. She wasn’t very demonstrative – as I put it, she measured out her feelings carefully, but I knew that they came from an inexhaustible reservoir, and I finished my little talk with an undertaking to love as fully as she did.
There is a very pertinent line in the Buddhist scriptures which is this: “The days and nights are relentlessly passing: how well are you using your time?” This something we all need to consider – as the scripture has it, “again and again”. How much time do we waste with ill-will, falling out with each other, grumbling and being suspicious of others? Nor is it enough just to fill our time with busyness: what really matters is how we do what we do. If we love well and give of ourselves, then we will make the most of every opportunity our life offers us.
So I would invite you to think about your life, about its uncertainties, and to look at whether you are making the most of it. Every day brings an opportunity for kindness, concern for others, generosity and compassion. So why not take full advantage of it while you can?
On my desk at home I have a picture postcard from the Hermitage gallery in St. Petersburg. On the back in my mother’s slightly spidery handwriting there is the usual brief and breezy holiday greeting from the cruise she and dad were on. The postcard was posted on August 26 in Tallinn, Estonia. During the cruise it seemed that mum had pulled a muscle and she was in quite a lot of pain, which continued when she got home. About a week later she was admitted to hospital for tests. A week after that, on September 15, she was dead, overcome by the tumour which had been growing on her liver.
Fortunately, I and most of the rest of the family were able to see her the evening before she died. I’m so glad that I was able to tell her how grateful I was for everything she’d done and assure her that her children and grandchildren had turned out well, something she could be very satisfied with. I was also glad, even though it was a bit strange for me as an ordained Buddhist, to stand up a couple of weeks later in the church in which I had been baptised to tell the packed congregation about my mum as I knew her. I have to say it was comforting to see a lot of familiar faces from my childhood, even though I have since taken another path. I was moved to see the obvious expressions of love for my mum and dad. I’m still moved now.
Mum didn’t want to go. The weekend before she had told me that there was so much she still wanted to be part of and experience before her death. She had agreed to a course of chemotherapy and wanted to fight her corner against the cancer. But there simply wasn’t time; it was all so fast.
My point is this: we can never know when our time is up, so we should live our lives as fully as possible. Every day could be the last day we have. When I spoke about mum in the church and heard other friends and family members talk about her, I realised just how full her life had been. Most importantly, perhaps, it was defined by the love and care she felt for many, not just those close to her. She wasn’t very demonstrative – as I put it, she measured out her feelings carefully, but I knew that they came from an inexhaustible reservoir, and I finished my little talk with an undertaking to love as fully as she did.
There is a very pertinent line in the Buddhist scriptures which is this: “The days and nights are relentlessly passing: how well are you using your time?” This something we all need to consider – as the scripture has it, “again and again”. How much time do we waste with ill-will, falling out with each other, grumbling and being suspicious of others? Nor is it enough just to fill our time with busyness: what really matters is how we do what we do. If we love well and give of ourselves, then we will make the most of every opportunity our life offers us.
So I would invite you to think about your life, about its uncertainties, and to look at whether you are making the most of it. Every day brings an opportunity for kindness, concern for others, generosity and compassion. So why not take full advantage of it while you can?