Death and John Denver

Death and John Denver were my childhood obsessions, and they are inextricably linked as the late-night, mind-spinning ideas that stole my sleep as a youth. Thoughts of death invoked visions of not being here someday and massive stomach-aches, until my hero John Denver came to rescue me. In my dark bedroom, I used to imagine John Denver as the prize in a contest that I always won (of course), and that prize was to spend the day with John Denver. He would come to school with me, meet my friends, and have dinner with my family.

Death and John Denver collided yesterday when I attended the funeral of a dear family friend. A beautiful remembrance of her life took place at the synagogue, and to close the ceremony, her son led the mourners in John Denver's "Country Roads."

En route to the cemetery, I paid attention to my surroundings. It was a gorgeous day, new magnolia and forsythia blossoms covered the trees, birds were chirping and a warm breeze was blowing. It was a day fitting for our dear departed friend, who cherished the outdoors. A memory came to me, there in the car. During my time in Japan teaching English, I received a phone call on a Saturday afternoon from one of my adult students. He explained as best he could, in broken English, that his son had just passed away. At the time, I didn't know much about his personal life, I didn't even know how many children he had or if his child had been sick or had succumbed to some terrible accident. He was calling to invite me to the funeral, he explained, he wanted me to experience the traditions surrounding a Japanese funeral. In his time of profound sorrow, he was thinking of an opportunity. Sadly, I wasn't able to attend.

There is undoubtedly a lot to learn about death (and life) by studying or observing rituals from around the world. We likely have some preconceived notions about who does what and how, or what we might like for ourselves. For me, I wonder if learning more might quell my own fears with the notion that one day you're here and one day you're gone. But I can seek comfort in the words of my beloved John Denver, "Country Roads, take me home, to the place, I belong....."