A few days after Len’s death, educator and author Parker Palmer posted about Len on his Facebook page and included Mary Oliver’s poem "When Death Comes." Palmer asks us to consider this powerful question, “When our last day arrives, what do we want to be able to say about our lives?” 

Here is Parker Palmer's post followed by the Oliver poem. 

On Thursday, a friend of mine died. Len’s health had been precarious for most of his life, but he never ceased looking for ways to support and encourage others.

On Friday, when a young interviewer asked me the ancient question, “What is the purpose of life?,” I found myself channeling my friend’s spirit: “Life is a gift, pure and simple. Its purpose is more life, which means living in a way that passes the gift along to others.”

Here’s Mary Oliver’s poem about death, which asks not only how we want to die but how we want to live. When our last day arrives, what do we want to be able to say about our lives?

Memo to Self: Live a life of curiosity and exploration, the kind that keeps opening your mind and heart. Do your best to look upon everyone as a brother or sister, and never underestimate the courage it takes some people just to wake up and walk into the day.

Don’t ask to be saved, ask to be spent, spent on the common good: life itself is the best investment you can make. Don’t be a mere tourist, be a lover of life. Your reach will always be limited, but there are a thousand ways to take the world’s wounds and wonders into your arms.

When Death Comes, Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

**********************

Note from Beka:   Parker's rendition of Len's possible answer to questions about the meaning of life seems true to Len (and to Parker!) “Life is a gift, pure and simple. Its purpose is more life, which means living in a way that passes the gift along to others.”  Len spent a lot of his time over his last months - and all the months before - thinking about how he could live in a way that would pass that gift of life along to others.

Several friends replied on Parker’s post, noting how often Len talked about Parker and his work.(Over the years, when the kids would make up “Dad bingo,” Parker Palmer’s name was always included, along with other people and things Len mentioned a lot – e.g., mindfulness, Dan Siegel, pre-frontal cortex, etc.)  Cindy Johnson mentioned in the comments to Parker’s post, that it “would have meant the world to Len.” That is true.  Len loved to hear from Parker.  And he loved to hear from all of you – the Facebook and CaringBridge comments, the texts, and the cards have been a joy.  Thank you.  

We are doing okay as we find our way through grief and learn to live with this new normal.  As I note in the addition to "Len's Story",  I plan to keep posting and am hoping to get back on a once a week schedule.