Our Friend Death

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my mortality.

I believe it stems mostly from visiting a local rehabilitation hospital. All the students at my school are required to participate in a service project, meaning each week I lead a group of 9th graders to the bedsides of individuals who've suffered strokes, traumatic injuries, and all other sorts of debilitating conditions. The majority of the patients are elderly.

I must applaud the kids for their enthusiasm and perseverance. Under the best of circumstances, it can be difficult for young people to get a glimpse of some of the challenges awaiting us in our advanced years. It's even more unsettling when grandma and grandpa are dealing with dementia, paralysis, or missing limbs.

Statistically speaking, my 14-year-old students probably won't face such a dwelling for decades and can easily dismiss the possibility, but as a 49-year-old, I'm aware that I'm past the half-way point of my life expectancy. I'm getting close to the age when I could be the one lying in the bed sharing tales of my youth with anyone willing to listen.

Bette Davis put it best, "Old age ain't no place for sissies."

The rehabilitation center is a reminder to me that I'd better not put off life. I've always tried to pursue my dreams in the here and now, but at times I'm guilty of telling myself I'll get to things later.

For the last two or three years, I thought about teaching abroad, but I found every excuse for not doing it. My main one was that it would be more practical to do so when I retired from teaching in Georgia. Then, I came to the realization that I might not even make it to retirement, so now I find myself in Singapore.

Was it the right decision? That answer will unfold over time, but whatever the outcome I don't have to worry about waking up in a nursing home one day asking myself what would have happened if I'd gone to Singapore.

The awareness of our dwindling days on earth should push us toward our dreams and push us away from those situations that limit our happiness - a toxic friendship, an unfulfilling job, an unhealthy habit.

I once read that the best way to make a decision is to acknowledge that the time is going to pass whatever we do. For example, if I'm considering a career change, I can wake up in five years trying out a new job, or I can wake up in five years working at the same dead-end firm around the same negative colleagues wondering what life might be like if I made a switch.

Either way, I am five years closer to the grave. Is it worth trading those five precious years for misery. I know what my friends in the rehabilitation center would say.

However, it's not just my school's service project that's got me pondering my mortality. It's also my cultural isolation. There's nothing I'd rather do than cast off the familiar and explore a new land, but there's always a downside.

Our own culture gives us a frame of reference. It gives us an identity. It gives us a support system.

The Singaporeans have been quite welcoming, as well as my co-teachers, but I've been stripped of my security blanket and many of the distractions that often prevent me from journeying inward - television, current events, sports. Yes, I know that Johnny Manziel made an obscene gesture to the Redskins, but it's not high on the list of conversation in Singapore.

I'm not complaining. Distractions prevent growth, but the lack of distractions leave a lot of time to mull over such topics as death.

So, death is waiting, maybe sooner than later, which is why we should pursue our dreams and eschew that which makes us unhappy. Seems like a fairly straightforward prescription for a fulfilling life, but this weekend, I was reminded of one more important component - friends.

As S.E. Hinton put it, "If you have two friends in your lifetime, you're lucky. If you have one good friend, you're more than lucky."

The word "friend" is thrown around loosely, but there are only a couple of friends that I can count on in any situation. One such person is Tom Hanley, who I've known for more than 20 years.

When I moved to Singapore, a lot of people said they'd keep in touch and might even visit. I'm not so naive as to think that would actually happen. Years ago, a wise priest once told me that people so often worry about what others are thinking about them. Fr. Smith said the sad truth is that we spend so little time thinking at all about those around us because we are so preoccupied with our own struggles in life.

I completely understand because I've sometimes done a lousy job in the past of corresponding with my friends who've moved to new locales or just lived across town.

But I have to include Tom in the "good friend" category. He's consistently been there for me over the decades no matter the situation, and last weekend, he took the time to visit me on his way back from China.

We saw a few tourist sites. Mainly, though, we just caught up, reminisced,  and enjoyed one another's company. Actually, it surprised me how much I enjoyed his visit. That's what spending almost two months alone in a foreign land pondering one's death does to a person. It makes him appreciate that even though time is passing rapidly and even though one day he might end up in a rehabilitation center staring into space that if he made a couple of true friends along the way the trip was all worth it.