Death smiles at us all, all a man can do is smile back.
Marcus Aurelius
Edith caught her husband in the bathroom, tweezers in hand, struggling with something. Noting the concern showing in his wrinkled brow, she questioned: “What are you poking at, honey?” Edgar replied in a husky voice: “Nothing;” yet, at the same time, he winced and dropped the tweezers in the sink. Standing on tiptoes, she looked down past his shoulders. Next to the tweezers lay several tiny dark hairs and one or two white ones.
“Why are you so upset?” asked Edith in the same soothing tone she used with their infant daughter. “It’s only some ugly white hairs…”
“I am only thirty-two!!” he replied, almost shouting.
“Oh, dear. Haven’t you noticed how much time I spend covering up all my lumps and imperfections? Men should not spend time trying to fix their looks. That’s a chore for us women.”
“It is not my looks that I worry about!” replied Edgar loudly, almost shouting. “It’s the clock! A white hair is like a fire alarm. I’ve just started living and the two-minute warning just went off! I’m too young to die!”
“Come on, quit it now!” replied Edith, a bit condescendingly. “You are being silly!”
***
But Edgar was not appeased. A couple of days later, he was having lunch with his boss Murray at an outdoor café and, despite the fine weather and the nice glass of chardonnay, he was in a somber mood as he related the discovery of white hair on his chin and its dire implications.
Murray, who was a year away from reaching the mandatory retirement age, set down his glass on the table. Clearing his throat, he waved his arm around, signaling to the park that opened across the street. “Look out there” he directed.
“Look at what?”
“See the squirrels hurrying around? It is only mid-September, but they sense winter coming and are busy gathering nuts. And look at the mourning doves: they are ground feeders, but notice how they are scouting everywhere for morsels for their young. And some trees are already showing a red leaf or two.”
“And the point is?” pressed Edgar.
“Every living thing in nature knows that winter is arriving soon and is preparing for it as well as it can. How about you? What provisions have you made to prepare for the end of your days?”
“Well, I opened an account on the IRA sponsored by the Firm and am trying to deposit as much as I can every month. I also have bought life insurance and disability insurance so that Edith and my daughter Clara are protected if something happens to me. I work out three times a week. My wife has made me quit smoking; I don’t do drugs, and hardly ever drink except at times like this. Overall, I try to keep in as good a physical shape as I can.”
“It sounds reasonable. Look around again.”
“What for?” came back Edgar, a bit defensively.
“Do you see any signs of panic?”
“Like what?”
“Does it look to you as if any animal is on the lookout for a predator, or doing anything unusual?”
Edgar started squirming in his chair impatiently. “I don’t know much about animal behavior.”
Murray continued: “Believe me, if a fox or a coyote showed up in the vicinity, every creature you see now would suddenly disappear. Everything would turn quiet except for the noises we humans make.”
“That’s probably true” allowed Edgar. “But again, what does that have to do with my concern?”
“Well, think about it. Your first white hairs are giving you a reminder that your time on earth is limited, and calling for you to act on that warning. And you, like the squirrels and the doves, are already doing that. And you should follow the lead of your animal friends: you need to be diligent, but do not fret about something over which you have no control.”
“I’m surprised that you can be so cavalier about death, seeing that you are about to retire and, heaven forbid, you will be coming to the end of your days sometime relatively soon after that!” exploded Edgar.
Murray did not seem to take umbrage at his subordinate’s outburst. “I know that my remaining time on this earth is short. However, I have had the opportunity to experience and share many wonderful things in my life, even if perhaps for only a brief time. For these gifts I am grateful, and the gratitude makes me feel at peace with myself. I enjoy the company of the loved ones that remain, as well as the many fond memories of those that have moved on – the kisses and caresses, the tender words I had exchanged with them, the lifetime of small and big pleasures and emotions I have experienced and shared. I do not look forward to death, but don’t cower in fear of it either.” He took another sip of wine and set the glass carefully on the table.
“But it’s not fair!” repeated Edgar.
“Fairness has nothing to do with it” replied Murray. “Science has yet to find out how the miracle that we call life came into being, and we still must leave the explanation to the theologians. We should just be grateful that we get to experience it, both its joys and pains, for whatever time is granted us. And rather than lamenting its short duration, we should concentrate on extending our lifespan as much as possible and having as good a time in the interim as we can.”
“But I am doing all of that already.”
“Well, keep doing it and hope for the best. And don’t forget to get your flu shots. The season is around the corner.”
***
Two weeks later, as he was finishing his 5K endurance run on the riverside trail, Edgar suddenly felt faint and collapsed; he was dead on arrival at the hospital. At his wake, everyone remarked how youthful he appeared and how tragic his early demise was.
THE END