It's the rare book that touches heart and soul. For me, Kerry Egan's remarkable memoir of her experiences as a hospice chaplain, "On Living," is that rarity - a book that offers stories and insights from the dying, showing what they can teach us about living.
An acquaintance once asked Egan what her typical work day was like. She described her efforts as offering a peaceful presence through hours spent in careful listening, perhaps holding a hand or singing, and being attentive to patients and their need to make meaning of their lives. Her acquaintance then said, "This is a real job? That people go to graduate school for?" (The author is a Harvard Divinity School graduate). Egan admits what she does is hard to define, and trying to explain it often seems trivial.
Through her work, Egan discovered "we all have some experiences that we hold up as the stories that define our lives." Whether tragic or joyful, these are the stories Egan shares, each with permission from the patient and each demonstrating a lesson in living. What Egan hears from her listening are long-held secrets, betrayals, heartbreak, regrets and hopes for forgiveness. Most importantly, patients talk about love - for their families, for the love they missed or couldn't give. As Egan notes, "The first, and usually the last, classroom of love is the family."
The stories she relates are compelling, inspiring and sometimes funny. Like the woman who hated her large body throughout her life, musing now "I am going to miss this body so much." Or the shocking wartime revelation of a man who thought toughness was his defining characteristic and found otherwise. Egan relates her own story of suffering a severe reaction to medication during a C-section, which led to a psychotic break and years of shame and fear. Her work in hospice led to an understanding of her past and helped to heal her pain. She has amazing reserves of empathy, but she also admits to making mistakes with her patients that haunt her to this day.
The author is a wonderful storyteller and a wise woman. I wanted to copy inspiring and poignant quotes from every other page, small messages that provide solace. The things we lose shape who we become, Egan said, and it's at the end of our lives that we decide how these difficult things define us. She advises the reader not to put off "doing the work of becoming who you want to be," because waiting will not make it easier.
This is no preachy book of clichés, no prayers for the dying - just many reminders that time is short and that beauty, grace and loss exist in every life.
Madeline Matson is reference and adult programming librarian at Missouri River Regional Library.