Leaving Well With Unfinished Business
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by Patricia Gibler Clark
On July 17, my stepson Dan Clark passed away. He was 36 years old. He had worked as a highly skilled and highly sought-after computer consultant until he discovered he had cancer about a year and a half ago. This is a little bit of the story of his dying, which he did with dignity, struggle and courage. It is also a story of the wealth of his resources, which he channeled to good through his dying process.Dan discovered his cancer on a sort of pilgrimage to Southeast Asia. He had a massage while visiting his sister Dana in Thailand last February and wondered about the lumpy massage tables in this strange country. It turns out the lump was in him.
When Dan got home, he began the next stage of his pilgrimage. His family watched him walk the tightrope between fighting the disease and preparing for his likely death. Family issues surfaced immediately as we struggled to offer Dan, who lived alone in New Jersey, care and hope. Each surgery, each new diet, each strategy that didn't lead to cure pointed Dan to the unfinished business of his life and to the limited time he had left to handle it.
What was unfinished for Dan somehow soon dovetailed with the larger struggles of our world. He talked to us about the second half of his life, how he had planned, after making a lot of money in the computer industry, to "make a difference in the world." He had planned to retire at 35...had told us that for years...and here at 35 discovers cancer, has a lot of money, and the second half of his physical life is almost over.
On the day of Dan's final surgery, Dana, along with a large group of highly dedicated activists, celebrated their victory of convincing the World Bank board of directors to reject its management's proposal to relocate 58,000 Chinese farmers into Tibet. Dan couldn't join her protest, but he supported her with his personal prayers from the hospital, and in reciprocity for Dana's help, the Tibetan community showered Dan with prayers.
Suddenly, there seemed to be no separation from spiritual practice and the nitty-gritty mess of dying. What touched me most during the next 11 days, as we sat with Dan for 24-hour vigils to minister to his needs, was the incredible balance we all maintained in this path of suffering.
We made an altar in his hospital room, hung prayer flags and banners of the Buddha there, and brought in fresh flowers each day from his garden. Dan remained conscious. We offered qi gong in the still of the night and repeated to Dan the words of a Tibetan rinpoche who had come to visit-"just stay in the present moment." He struggled to let go. People began to whisper about the details of the estate, asking if he had done everything he wanted to do. Dan fretted, trying to remember. The practices wove themselves like incense into the practical. It became clear that it's only things that are unfinished that we are called to let go of, and we all go out, with God's grace, holding on to something.
Each of us in the dying process, including Dan, discovered that the process of dying was actually our entrance into the second half of our fuller life. I think the greatest difference Dan made in the world would be this life-changing experience of awareness we all shared with him.
But what humbled and overwhelmed me most was how those of Dan's generation who watched him die-Dana, my daughters Eryn and Tami, Dan's friends-all embraced without question the one-ness of action and contemplation. Nothing separated them from loving Dan, meeting his needs, touching each other and praying for God's will to be done. Nothing. They possessed an incredible capacity to embrace the depth of hard feelings in one moment and, in the next, to phone a friend at work who needed to fill them in on an important project. In moments of family disagreements, they talked about mindfulness and about walking meditation as a way to be with their anger, fear and pain. No escape. No mercy except that relentless path to God. God now. God with and in Dan. They believed this.
Dan's estate, Dan's legacy is now with us. One friend places food on his altar every day for Dan. We in Dan's family now bend a little lower to listen to our heart questions about the balance needed to protect our inner and outer environment. A small non-profit called Earth Rights, which supports the environmental movement in third world countries, benefits from Dan's significant financial bequest. God smiles to have Dan close, and we like knowing this. I invite your prayers for Dan and for his generation that sets an example for all of us for generous giving and generous living. And may our consciousness expand to include God's love in this and all things.
© 2008 The Shalem Institute.