Life and Death

Jack* had said he was unhappy and would choose when his life would end. I was stunned and stumbled around for appropriate words to share with him. I have no idea how well I did – or didn’t.

Then another surprise: he asked me to be his executor! Humbled by the request and now realizing his seriousness, I said yes but that I would need his help.

Weeks later Jack and I had discussed his situation, its prognosis (helpless) and what he intended to do about it. And when! I needed time to prepare for whatever was ahead, or so I thought.

He thought spring would be most probable, late April or early May. It was now February so I thought I had time to think this whole thing over. And I did. And how!

My first move was to ask a lawyer friend if I had culpability in Jack’s death knowing in advance that he was planning suicide. How much legal responsibility did I have to stop him or keep him from harming himself? The attorney said I bore no liability. The decision was my friend’s.

So I returned to Jack a few days later and asked him about what he wanted in his obituary. I know that may seem strange but I had the feeling that if I engaged him in the details of his own death I might persuade him to abandon his plans. Of course Jack had painted a dire image of his failing kidneys and rampaging ulcers. So I knew his health was the trump card in the equation; and pain. His pain.

First he helped me write the obituary. I stretched this out for three weeks. Then an epitaph. Finally I asked him to design his memorial or funeral service. That took quite a bit of time. But the details gathered slowly and the plans were laid out pretty well. Finally Jack provided me with a letter draft of his final wishes. Not exactly a will but it did lay out notification of next of kin, his final words to friends and family, and a detailed account of how his personal property was to be distributed.

When April and May passed that spring I asked Jack what his prognosis was; evidently he was feeling better and for a longer period than the doctors had projected. He responded with a new deadline of fall, perhaps as late as November.

We continued our routines of friendship. We talked about sundry topics. We laughed over life’s oddities. He loved intellectual exploration and discussion. His mind frolicked in such pastimes. And he was happy. Or so I thought.

Awaiting the dropping of the second shoe I remembered Jack’s anticipated season of death but couldn’t ask him directly. Would the doctors intervene, or would Jack have his way? Or would I find a way to stop him? The suspense built.

Finally, on December 14^th a police woman was ringing my doorbell. She asked if I knew Jack and I suddenly knew the day had come. Yes. That morning. A combination of prescription drugs and alcohol had done the trick.

My feeling was sadness but relief. I knew that Jack’s torture was over. And I clearly heard the second shoe drop.

The coroner had the body, the house was secured, notification of next of kin was next on the list, but first I had to visit Jack’s home and gather check books and other sensitive items. Friends were present and they shared with me Jack’s final letter. A day later I received the same letter in the mail but my copy complete with contact sheets and addresses of everyone mentioned in Jack’s distribution of property list. He had done more work than I thought. He had lived about nine months longer than he thought he would. I guess I had kept him pretty busy.

It is now February and the legal details are grinding slowly through the grist mill. The family has formally named me administrator of the estate but the court still must act on that request. I visited the funeral home at the behest of Jack’s dad. The coroner had given me the outline of the process to follow. Body pick up and then to a direct cremation. Ashes to be sent to Dad. Jack wanted his ashes cast into the winds of Yosemite, preferably at Glacier Point.

This week I hope to receive death certificates and court approval for me to get on with the formation of the estate. Then the long process of taxes, finances, house sale, distribution of goods and assets. This process could take a year or longer!

I don’t know if Jack’s church has performed a memorial service. His friends, however, have discussed his passing in much detail. Some anger and disappointment to be sure. But memories continue and in that very real sense so does his life. Although the end was unpleasant it was expected and his decision. He believed in a loving and embracing God. He was ready to go.

There is a post script to this account. Jack was not actually ill. Turns out he was in good health – no kidney disease. No fatal syndrome. The ulcers may have been real witnessed by his care of avoiding certain foods and the presence of antacids. No there was no fatal disease. Just a psychology run amok that amounted to the same thing. I was one of the last to know this. It was the coroner who told me. Jack had lied about being fatally ill! He had been right about one thing, though. He was unhappy in a way none of us could imagine.

February 11, 2013

*Not his actual name