As a nation, I think it is fair to say that the life and death of Dame Deborah James has made a deep impact on the national psyche. The former deputy head of Salesian School, Chertsey taught the world a solid lesson in how to live—and die. I feel privileged to have been reared in a strongly Irish culture where death was an accepted fact of life. I will never forget seeing my first calf being born: sharing that magical moment of nature was amazing. Such wonder was also balanced by the reality of knowing that your favourite pet lamb also will have to leave to go to 'another farm'! My parents never sanitised death— it was all around us. If any person in the village died, we would automatically go and visit the grieving relatives—my mum always bringing a pie. There was a great sense of solidarity in the mourning process: together we would gather together to truly celebrate a life well lived. I remember gazing on the faces of those I loved and respected — elders who had given me so much, looking so peaceful. It did not frighten or scare me, and I certainly do not need deep counselling because my parents allowed me to see the body of a dead relative. This communal experience of death was especially evident at the funeral rites around the death of my own parents. Family and friends gathered to offer support and help: yes, there were tears, but also laughter and rich memories, as we shared stories over copious amounts of food and drink. The official rites of the Church were accompanied by an ancient Celtic appreciation of the deceased over a two-day period — a dear friend who travelled from England to be with us, as we said goodbye to my dad, commented as he boarded his flight home to Manchester, 'I hope you don't mind me saying this, but this has been the best weekend I've had in ages!' I saw it as a great compliment and one that my dad would enjoy.

Dame James discovered that she had bowel cancer—rather than question the diagnosis and live in a world of denial, she faced her final illness head on, contributing to the popular BBC podcast, 'You, Me and the Big C'. She and her colleagues were not afraid to talk about the pain, sorrow and sadness that cancer brings. However, she brought a realism to a disease that was often talked about in hushed tones. I remember my own anger when my own mother shared her cancer diagnosis. My question was simply 'why?'—why did this painful disease afflict my lovely, kind mum? Her response was one that shamed me: her response was from a woman of deep and loving faith — 'why not?'

Here we have two wonderful women who were ready to share glory. Their lives had prepared them to accept death. Dame James saw that truth of St Francis of Assisi in his famous prayer: 'in dying we are born to eternal life.' Today the Lord is asking of each of us, 'are you ready to fully share the reign of God? Whatever your picture of heaven is, I am sure it will include a notion of living life to the full in happiness and joy. Jesus points to the servants who live out what it means to be a true follower: they are ready for action so that they can make a difference. With her humour and honesty, Deborah James was able to tackle a subject that many of us would rather shy away from. Her new book will be published next month: 'How to live when you could be dead' will help us to appreciate the gift of life, and our need to ensure that we give our very best in all situations. Each of us will be given amazing and wonderful opportunities over this coming week. Our option must be to embrace them and live them to the very full: the good Lord wants the very beat from each of us.

Author: Fr Gerry O'Shaughnessy SDB

Image: Photo by Elena Sambros on Unsplash