In the past couple of years some of those “shun” (-tion) words seem to have become more noticeable in life.

Recognition – Obsession – Expression – Fascination – Desperation – Deterioration – Exploration – Adaptation – Occupation – Revelation.

Maybe because of retirement, social security and Medicare? Maybe it’s because of the emotions awakened by the Occupy Movement? Maybe it’s because of deaths of family and friends?

Recently – in  the Lancaster Intelligencer Journal/New Era, on the editorial pages – a column entitled, “Looking ahead, darkly” appeared. Baltimore Sun columnist, Susan Reimer, touched on the topic that deals with the certain finality of death and the recognition and desperation of knowing that it is final.

She tells a story of a friend who swore that if his cancer returned, he would “hop into a sailboat and drift out to sea.”

She continues with his change of heart when the cancer returned.

Before my Dad died four years ago, his reaction was similar. My sisters and I were there when the doctor laid out the prognosis of his small-cell lung cancer. Our 85-year old father said, “What can I do; how long do I have?”

The doctor delivered the fateful news: a month to five months. He continued that because of our father’s age and compromised medical condition, surgery was not an option. Radiation treatment might lengthen the inevitable, but he cautioned that radiation treatment has side effects which could (and would) be debilitating.

When faced with the reality and options of the “end,” this incredible old Lancaster Countian who had endured savage fighting as an infantryman in World War II where he sustained serious wounds at the battle of Metz, blinked and elected to prolong the end with radiation treatment. This tough disciplinarian; this retired Penn Dairies milk deliveryman; this uneducated, but now, curious, intelligent, gentle man – now facing the most difficult battle of his life – opted for the hope of more life, in spite of the discomfort.

I drove my Dad to the radiation therapy sessions for three weeks; then he died in hospice care at Ephrata Community Hospital. My sisters, our kids and I were there at the end.

Sooner or later everyone will die. Some of us will not have the luxury of making determinations that impact the “end.” All of us, though, do have the luxury of revelation if we acknowledge that all beings – all things – expire in a physical state.

“So, what’s the point of this opinion column?”

Only that recognition of a physical expiration and “lessons learned” exist to show the path. In the next two days, look here for a review of a movie that deals with the topic and a book that deals with the topic … realistically.

Click here to read Susan Reimer’s column in its entirety.

Brian L. Long