An Honorable Life and Death

My mother-in-law died on May 23rd. I can't bring myself to use a euphemism--in fact, I've found that everyone who reads or hears that word from me handles it just fine. There's no need to sugar-coat the end, and certainly not for someone as strong as Lula Belle Russo.

I've written a newspaper column about her struggle with the after-effects of treatment for mouth cancer (http://www.sptimes.com/2007/11/27/50plus/Savoring_life_s_most_.shtml). I started a new one about her continuing struggles with the medical bureacracy (including sometimes uncaring and even cruel treatment), focusing on the one doctor who volunteered words that formed themselves into a sort of life-raft: "I will take care of you." That's what Belle, as she was known, needed--someone to take responsibility for her care. But she died in a few weeks after being diagnosed with cancer for the third time, too soon for me to finish the column so that she could read it.

My main purpose here is to reflect on what we really can achieve through an honorable life. Certainly not ultimate happiness and contentment: Belle--an intellectually inquisitive person--at times felt unfulfilled by her life. To me, this was a sign that she really was living an examined life. Philosophy, once engaged in, can make one unhappy, I'm afraid. But before, during, and after her funeral, the outpouring of support from so many people made me certain that she was near the central hub of a wheel whose spokes radiated out to hundreds of people. That wheel still turns, with her memory keeping the place that her physical presence once did.

I tend not to use the word "honor" as a verb. A business woman who is member of my local chamber of commerce (as I am) applies the word quite sensibly in this latter way--she honors some particular characteristic in people. I, on the other hand, prefer its use as a strong noun. Honor is something that one maintains, increases, or decreases. If one is honorable, then in general one should seek to maintain or increase the dignity of others (unless those others are unethical, in which case one might seek to decrease their dignity in a sense). Belle by her very nature was honorable, using an ethic of care toward friends and family, and leavening her actions with a dose of self-deprecating humor.

I don't have much use for death. But I do try to recall the myths of the Greek gods, how they were jealous of mortals--unlike those who could die and thus display true bravery (and other virtues), the gods were reduced often to silly bickering. The final punctuation mark that death adds to our human sentences forces us to consider whether we were correct in calling ourselves honorable.

It is some comfort to me, at least, that Belle's life will remain a model of honor.