“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today.” Mother Teresa
The year 2022, especially the second half, was especially painful for a lot of people. A friend of mine lost a brother and a daughter in the span of a week. A few friends were diagnosed with cancer, and one dear friend lost the battle. Covid was and still is affecting a lot of people. There was a horrific boat accident that killed a young girl and left a few others critically ill. Twelve families and an entire community were deeply affected by this tragedy. There’s a war going on in Eastern Europe that is directly or indirectly affecting the whole world. And on the last three days of the year, we lost Pope Benedict XVI, Barbara Walters and Pelé.
The start of 2023 has also began with a lot of turmoil. We tragically lost a nephew the first week of the year. A young mom-to-be was diagnosed with a tumor, and had to undergo major surgery with the fear that it could affect her unborn baby. Thankfully it didn’t. A grandmother accidentally ran over her 2-year-old granddaughter as she was backing out from the driveway. A lot of sad news, and we are not even one full month into the new year.
As I navigated through the pain of losing my nephew so unexpectedly, a friend reminded me of my resolution for this year: surrender and trust. I have been praying hard for this. In the midst of my prayer, I received an unexpected gift from Dynamic Catholic, a book titled “No Regrets.” God-incidentally, the first chapter was a fable about the main character dying in a car accident. It catapulted me head on into meditating about pain and death.
Pain and death are inevitable. As long as we live here on earth, we are going to deal with tragedies. Illness, accidents, losing loved ones, war… They are all part of daily life. But how we choose to deal with the pain can make all the difference in the world. We are all carrying our own crosses. We can choose to carry them grudgingly and complaining every step, or we can choose to carry them in prayer and offering them up to God. Death is the great equalizer. We are all going to die. We all have an expiration date, we just don’t know when that is. For some it arrives at the age of 2, and for others at the age of 101. Since we don’t know, we might as well make the best of the time that we have been given.
I celebrated my 60th birthday last year. According to this book written by Allen Hunt and Matthew Kelly, I am at the threshold of the fourth quarter of my life. They divide life as follows: Birth to 20 is the first quarter; 21 to 40 is the second quarter; 41 to 60 is the third quarter; 61 to 80 is the fourth quarter; and if you are blessed to live past 80, consider that bonus time. This book is specifically about living the fourth quarter of our lives with no regrets. I plan to do just that. But it starts with accepting that I’m going to die one day. I have to live my life each day as if it’s my last day because all we have is today. As Mother Teresa reminds us, “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today.”
Saint Benedict, a saint I’m getting to know well since my grandson bears his name, used to say: “Remember your death each day.” It’s good advice since we will die. I don’t want to sound morbid, but not acknowledging that we will die is like trying to hide the sun with one finger. We may not see it, but it’s still there shining its light upon us. Therefore, how we look at death can make all the difference in the world. It doesn’t need to be the darkest hour. It can be the best moment, if we are ready for it.
According to the book, when you die, “You will step into something new. You will transition to new life. Those who become purified in Christ will ultimately join Him and Mary in Heaven. Mary. Jesus. Heaven. These things are true. And real.”
Losing a loved one, especially unexpectedly, can be significantly hard, much harder I believe than facing our own mortality. I have seen it first hand these past two weeks, as I witnessed the excruciating pain that my sister-in-law and her husband are experiencing. I have been dealing with my own pain, but there’s no comparison to their pain. I lost a nephew, but they lost a son.
While going through this, I have been thinking a lot about Mama Mary. She walked with Jesus all the way to the cross. How she must have agonized seeing her only Son crucified on that cross. Mama Mary mirrors the pain of a grieving mother. I have been telling my sister-in-law to surrender her pain to Mary and to trust that God will give her the strength to carry this heavy cross.
In “No Regrets,” there is a meditation about the Assumption. I had never really contemplated Mary’s arrival to heaven. “I envision that moment, at the end of her earthly life, as Jesus comes and takes her by the hand to lead her home. To be at His side in Heaven. Assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.” What a beautiful vision. As I read this and contemplated it, I imagined my nephew arriving into heaven, and the angels leading him to Mary and God. I could picture their embrace as they welcomed him joyfully into his heavenly home. This vision helped me to surrender my pain.
I trust that God will teach me how to live the fourth quarter of my life, however long it lasts, with “no regrets.” If I’m handed a heavy cross, I will try to carry it while offering up its weight, and I will surrender the pain to God. And I will wake up every day, thanking God for today. I will not live in the past or in the future. I will try to live each day as if it was my last.
Copyright © 2023 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.
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