Perhaps this is a sad story for Christmas but I feel compelled to share it. Maybe by the end you will understand why.
Over the past couple of months, two men I knew passed away. Both men lived near me and they weren't much alike and it is in the difference between them where this story lives. One man was a local fellow. He never achieved much in his life of a material nature. In fact, we could say that never amounted to much. He was married and had 14 children. He lived in his own home but it wasn't very fancy. It was humble, to say the least.
The other man had made and lost a couple of fortunes. He owned sail boats, fast cars, big houses and expense accounts. He was a self-made man. He, too, had been married and had 3 children. This man had retired to Mexico and lived reasonably well. He could afford anything he wanted.
It's strange, in a way, how at almost the moment of passing a man's life is measured. At that moment who he actually was and what he meant is crystal clear. Up until that moment no one really knows what he is. I suppose it is because he still has the ability to change his life until then. When these two men passed away that measurement was made as it will be for me when my time comes.
The poor man who never amounted to anything was surrounded by his children in the days and weeks before he died. He knew he was dyiing of liver cancer and knew he only had a short time left on this earth. He talked with each one of his children and made clear what they were to receive.
The youngest was to receive his pickup. The young man refused in tears. At the funeral service his pall bearers were his sons. Just before the casket was taken to the church one son carefully dusted it. There were more than 200 people at the service and nearly all of them accompanied the body to the cemetery even though he died on a weekday and many people had to work.
The other man had no one with him at his passing despite repeated attempts to contact his children. They didn't have time to deal with him, they said. He could do as he pleased, they said. He never acknowledged that he was mortally ill. He argued with his doctors even when they tried to explain that his condition was worsening. At the end, he had only his maid by his side. She felt that he needed to have someone but could only afford him a few hours a day. Only a handful of people attended his memorial service and no one from his family attended. He was buried without mourners.
Of the two men, I have to think that the poor man's life had meaning and the rich man's life had little. It is sad to think that a man could spend his life building riches only to find that at the moment of his passing he is loved by very few and remembered by even fewer. It is also sad to think that a man who was loved by his family and neighbors didn't have anything to leave behind. Or did he?
One man achieved greatness in material things and is gone and forgotten. A cold wind blows where he once stood. One man achieved spiritual goodness and is still here living in his children, grandchildren, and great grand children. A warm light still burns where he still lives. They have both been measured. I didn't measure them, nor did anyone else yet the measure exists. I think that I should pattern the rest of my life on the man who attained spiritual goodness. I doubt that material gain really has anything to do with the final measure but I am sure that spiritual goodness does.
This Christmas, I think I shall visit the family of the poor man and bring a bottle of Herradura. It will be a time filled with their fond memories of a beloved father. I wish I could do the same for the family of the other man.
