Not long ago a dear friend of mine passed away.

Rachel was 98 years old. When her sons told me about her passing, I was struck by a sense of peace and completion. She lived a good life and when the time came for her to go to the next life, she was ready and transitioned peacefully. 

This makes me think of what a priest shared with me: that in his experience, people who live good and holy lives often die peaceful and holy deaths.

Rachel was dedicated to her husband, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. One of her granddaughters told me that in her opinion Rachel lived so long because she was always thinking of others. 

I lived with her for a year and a half while finishing grad school and experienced this firsthand. Her home and heart were always open to visitors and she was especially happy when one of her children stopped by for a visit.

In her last years, she told me that she looked forward to the next life where she could be reunited with her husband, her sisters, and all the dear friends who had passed before her. She said she felt ready to go and that her time here was coming to an end.

Before passing she received the last rites and was able to say goodbye to her sons and her grandchildren. One of her grandsons is a monk and prayed special prayers of blessing. My brother and I recorded one of her favorite songs, Gentle Woman, and her youngest son played it for her numerous times and shared with me that it was the last thing she heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

Her death makes me think of my own life. It makes me ask what really matters. I know that for her it was her relationships with family and friends. She was a social lady. Even in her mid- and late-90s she loved parties and get-togethers. She especially lived for those moments of connection with her children and grandchildren. She also loved music and dancing. She had zest for life and a twinkle in her eye. Now and then I’d bring some friends to her place and we’d sing and play guitar. She would round up a bunch of others and we’d have a little party.

Rachel was a strong Catholic and when she was still able would go to daily Mass. At the end of her life she would watch daily Mass on EWTN.

Whenever she spoke of dying she talked about how she looked forward to seeing the people who had gone before her. I could tell that the love she had for those who were already in the next life drew her toward her heavenly home. I never sensed or heard from her any fear of passing. Instead, she spoke of it as something she was open to and almost hoping for.

In a world that offers many distraction and pressures to be successful, to look good, and to put yourself first, a healthy appreciation of how short life is can be a catalyst to live in the present moment and embrace the things that really matter and will live and endure beyond this life. 

In one of my former jobs, I did outreach to seniors with disabilities and those who needed extra support navigating medical, financial, and social needs. I was struck again and again how the last years of life are coloured hugely by the decisions made earlier in life. Many shared how they wished they had their priorities straight when they were younger: that they had saved more, cherished certain relationships, made healthier decisions.

In my experience those who struggled the most in the end weren’t the ones who had less money. It was the ones who had fewer people and less love. 

St. Joseph, who we are honouring in a special way this year, is the patron saint of a holy and happy death. May we learn to befriend death, and may the awareness of how short and precious our life is help us live and embrace it more fully.

The Solemnity of St. Joseph is March 19.