Photos, courtesy: Joseph Fera. Top of this page - Don (centre) with friends. Bottom of the page: Don, near the "end". Second from bottom: Don (left) and friend with Don's Mum.
Daily Fix
The Art of Dying
T. SHER SINGH
The following monologue is taken from Episode # 76 of the weekly TV talk-show, "3-D: DIALOGUE" [Omni-TV Network, Canada] hosted by the author.
You know, no day goes by when you don't meet someone, somewhere, who claims that he or she doesn't need faith or religion.
"I'm good, I do good, I need nothing else!", they say.
I agree with the concept. Totally.
Faith and religion are not goals, they are mere paths to a greater goal. I've been brought up to believe that my personal aim in life is not just to be a better Sikh, but ultimately a better human being. I just happen to believe that the path of Sikhi is what makes it easier for me to get there, if I ever do, whenever I do.
But, I also believe that there could be no greater joy than to realize one day that religious regimen and discipline have become redundant in my life, that I've moved on.
I must confess that, through the years, of the umpteen men and women I've thus met who make the claim that they can and have by-passed the whole process, I've yet to meet one, even one, who has been successful in doing so. It's not impossible. Just as it is not impossible to get a Ph.D. without doing "x" number of years in high school and college. It has been done, but by a mighty few.
I've yet to meet one who has done it spiritually ... no, wait, that is not correct. I did know one person. And let me tell you about him.
I first met Donald Crawford McKinnon in law school. He was a year ahead of me. We were both mature students ... that is, older than the average student who hasn't been long out of high school.
It didn't take me long to discover that Don was an unusual chap. Not just because he had recently graduated from the Royal Military College in Kingston.
One day, on an exam day, he turned up in law school formally dressed ... to the "T"s. Black tie, tails, white gloves, the whole shebang! I asked him if he was off to a wedding after the test. "Nope!", he said.
I waited for an explanation, but it wasn't forthcoming. I pushed, and he finally explained grudgingly, as if it was obvious. He said that he did exams well if he was in a good mood. And that he always felt good when he was dressed up. So ... that's why he was DRESSED UP!
A few weeks later, when I saw him hanging out in the common room one day, I asked him how he'd done in the exams. "Don't know!", he said, and then clammed up. So, I waited a bit, and then pushed again ... I told him that the marks were posted on the board right behind him on the wall, why didn't he look them up.
He stared back at me. I goaded him on ... "Well?"
"Well!", he finally explained. "If I'd failed, they would've phoned me home and asked me to stay home. They didn't. I don't need to know more. I'm not looking for a job when I get out. I don't need to know how well I did, or how I compete with the others. It's not information I need. I don't need to know!" And then he clammed up.
As luck would have it, I found him practicing law in Guelph, Ontario, when I too got there, and had an opportunity to get to know him better, as a close friend.
And discovered an unusual and extraordinary man. He was an excellent lawyer ... it was a delight to hear him in criminal court. He had a sense of humour which lighted up any forum.
He was the life of a party, any party. Christmas parties with him were a delight ... he was a bundle of energy, no, more like a mini tornado. But he was always a perfect gentleman when and where the occasion required it, polite and meticulous to a fault.
I would see him jogging on the country roads in the morning, when I'd head into work. He was ram-rod fit and healthy.
His parties were events. Every now and then he would invite some judges and lawyers ... and cops too, for good measure ... and hold a poetry or play reading in his living room, late into the night. Difficult though it may seem, a good time would be had by all. He guaranteed it.
His Gray Cup parties were the stuff of legend.
And there were these causes he would pick up every week, and be their advocate until all the money they needed had been raised.
He was gutsy. He had me dressed up in a kilt, the whole caboodle, and had me address a Robbie Burns night one year, haggis and all!
What more could I tell you ... other than that he lived life to the fullest.
Ah yes. One day, not too long ago, he decided he was tired of lawyering. So, he closed shop and ... and, he became a truck driver! For a year and more, he hauled truck-loads across the continent, until he felt he had done enough of it ... and came back to the practice of law!
Three years ago, one day, out of the blue, he met his greatest challenge. He was summarily informed that he had cancer ... and a few weeks left, to sort out his affairs.
You know, I've heard it said by someone wise that it's in the dying, not the living, that one ultimately show's one's mettle.
And Don took the Damoclean sword as if it was but a natural progression of everything he had done, of the life he had lived.
Let me explain: he wasn't being stoic. And he wasn't being brave. And he wasn't being steel-hearted. He was just being Don.
He quickly sorted out all his financial affairs and settled down to his new vocation: preparing for his death.
He laid out the rules, which were then written out on a huge board and posted at the entrance to his farm, for the hundreds who came to visit him, to read ... before they entered. And he e-mailed these guidelines to his friends at regular intervals. To ensure that they understood his parameters around life and death.
No mourning was allowed. No whining, no regrets, no heavy and laden laments. Come to celebrate, or ... don't come at all. I'm ready for it. But, if you aren't, then please turn around, now, and go home!
And, he said, no religion!
I especially liked that. Because, as I had grown to know him, I'd realized that he was one who had actually gone beyond religion. He had somehow graduated to Ph.D. without the intervening degrees. And, that was okay.
There was a deeply spiritual core to everything he did. The only difference was that he truly didn't need religion.
You had to see him on Saturday mornings with his aging mother, the way he doted on her and attended to her, to realize how deep was his ... humanity.
But, getting back to his dying!
He decided to hold a wake, a funeral if you will, while he was alive! Friends and lovers were summonsed from around the country, and they came by the hundreds. For a Shakesperean banquet. About 400 gathered one evening, having paid 30 or 40 dollars each ... I forget, for the meal ... the proceeds to go for some causes . Don was on his last leg, so to speak.
The hospital didn't want him to go to the event. He just looked them in the eye and said, "So, what's the worst scenario? What can go wrong?"
So, he was wheeled into the banquet hall in his hospital bed. And, for the next hour, he had us rolling in the aisles ... no nostalgia, no sermons, no long-drawn good-byes ... just his take on the slings and arrows of dying. And death came out not looking too bad, I must say.
I learnt so much from him those last few weeks.
I was with him when they were wheeling him out of the hospital to take him to a hospice. As I kept pace with him, as they raced down the corridor, I asked him if he had taken all his possessions with him.
"Yup", he said.
"Your wallet?"
"Nope", he said.
"Your driver's license? Your credit cards?"
"Nope! I left them in the room", he said.
His eyes locked into mine, when we got into the elevator. For once in his life, he volunteered an explanation.
"I don't think", he said, "I don't think they're much use to me any more."
That was Donald Crawford McKinnon.
He lived so well.
But he taught me all about death.
First published on July 31, 2007 - Republished on May 2, 2014
Conversation about this article
1: Tejwant (U.S.A.), July 31, 2007, 2:19 PM.
The art of dying can only be cultivated by those who are not afraid of death and do not give a hoot about it. Guru Nanak says: To reach your True Home after you die, you must conquer death while you are still alive. SGGS, p11. In other words, T.Sher Singh, Don - your buddy - celebrated his life as a Sikh. It must give one a great feeling of living amongst the Sikhs, especially unknowingly.
2: Bandana Kaur (New York, U.S.A.), July 31, 2007, 7:13 PM.
That was such a beautiful piece; thank you for sharing it. I too have worked with and befriended some remarkable individuals that were agnostic, or not religious, who have inspired me in countless ways. The key thing is that, when I look at their actions, they are so pure, so innately compassionate, and do everything with a light heart and much joy. It just reminds me that Guru Nanak never wanted us to adopt Sikhi in mere name, but the true meat and potatoes of Sikhi through reforming our actions. It goes back to "Truth is high, but still higher is truthful living." It would be a wonderful gift to us as Sikhs to learn from the virtues of everyone around us, as you have from Don.
3: Jessi Kaur (California, U.S.A.), August 02, 2007, 9:46 PM.
There is something about people who live life to the hilt. They are not afraid to die. Whether they recognize it or not, there is a spiritual core that keeps them in Chardi kalaa at all times. There are two individuals whose stories come to mind: my mother and her younger sister. My mother showed an amazing acceptance when my father passed away. There was a box of mithai someone had brought to the house the day before he died. After the funeral, a cousin was discreetly trying to put it away when my Mom asked her to pass it around, saying that as Sikhs we should celebrate the life he lived. For herself, she would always say that when she dies, no one must cry because that would be the day of her true "marriage" with her Creator. At 70, she refused chemotherapy when she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. She said that she had lived a full, rich life and she did not want to be "dragged on". Needless to say, when she passed away, I was completely distraught and could not see the rationale of her belief that it would be a day of celebration ... until I heard the vaak at her Bhog - "laavan"! I was blown away! Some people commented afterwards that the Bhai Sahib who read it should have shown some sensitivity by going to another page! Little did they know! Her younger sister who was a passionate lover of life and always told us to celebrate her day of passing on as though it was her birthday. "Don't cry, don't mourn, party!" I heard her say many times. She passed away on her birthday.
4: Meeta Kaur (California, U.S.A.), August 03, 2007, 1:03 AM.
My father has teetered on the edge of death twice, and from those two "visits", he transformed himself from the inside out. He found his heart, and it is the heart he consults for every thought, word, action he carries out in his life. Not a single breath can be wasted. It is so easy to click into auto-pilot because of fatigue, over-booked schedules, daily tasks, and a lack of focus on what matters. Thanks for reminding me how precious our living moments are.
5: Tejwant (U.S.A.), August 03, 2007, 12:30 PM.
It is interesting to notice how people who are near and dear to us show us what living is all about while they are at the end of their own journey. They teach us how to celebrate life by demonstrating their blooming within while we only notice their withering due to our own anticipation of the loss. Little do we know that by leaving this world, they become closer to us forever. The proof is in the goose bumps that crop up ever so often when they are on our minds, in our thoughts, in our gestures and in our deeds. And Jessi, Maasi ji is one of them.
6: Tejwant (U.S.A.), August 04, 2007, 12:07 PM.
My friend, Leo Anderson [Jan 3,1952 - July 11,2007], passed away recently, and the following was on the funeral services invitation card: When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set me free. I want no rites in a gloom filled room, Why cry for the soul set free? Miss me a little - but not so long, And not with your head bowed low. Remember the love we once shared, Miss me - but let me go, For this is the journey we all must take, And each must go alone. It's all part of the Master's plan, A step on the road to home. When you are lonely and sick at heart, Go to the friends we know, Bury your sorrows in doing good deeds, Miss Me - But Let Me Go.(Author Unknown)
7: Sajjan Singh Bhangoo (Carmichael, California, U.S.A.), August 04, 2007, 12:53 PM.
T. Sher Singh has always been a source of inspiration to me. We had to grapple with these very issues recently when my nephew left us all in the prime of his life, eight months ago. I only wish this piece had come a little earlier!
8: Teja Singh (Edmonton, Canada), August 06, 2007, 4:25 AM.
Rabindranath Tagore's poem, "Farewell", captures similar sentiments: "I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure. Here I give back the keys of my door - And I give up all claims to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you. We were neighbors for long, But I received more than I could give. Now the day has dawned And the lamp that lit my dark corner is out. A summons has come and I am ready for my journey."
9: Roma Rajpal (Santa Clara, U.S.A.), August 16, 2007, 12:47 PM.
Thank you for giving us this touching and inspiring story from your life. You have beautifully summed up that our ultimate goal is to become a good human being, a pure soul who loves all, accepts everyone for who they are without any competition or comparison, lives a productive and a meaningful life, lives with honesty and truth, and above all, lives life to the fullest. It is possible to achieve all of this without religion, but for most people, religion makes the best guide. I have to say again that you are an amazing writer! I always wait to read your next article and often reread your previous ones since they are so inspiring and uplifitng.
10: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), May 03, 2014, 12:37 AM.
"I'm good, I do good, I need nothing else!", this mathematical wish wouldn't assure salvation. In this line, I, the imagined doer, appears three times. Sukhmani says: "jab ih jaanai mai kichh karta / tab lag garabh jon meh firtaa" [GGS:278.17] - "As long as the mortal thinks that he is the one who does things, he shall wander in reincarnation through the womb." When we come into this world, who has sent us? Death is an essential path in the journey of life. All of us are puppets. "Kaath ki putlee kahaa karai bapuree khilaavanhaaro jaaanai" [GGS:206.8] - "What can the poor wooden puppet do? The Master Puppeteer knows everything." #8 Teja Singh ji, we already have "Kirtan Sohela" that prepares us for death every night. "Dayh sajjan assesrhee-aa ji-o hovai sahib se-o mayl / ghar ghar ayho paahuchaa sad-rhay nit pavann" - [GGS:12.1] - "My friends, give me your blessings that I may merge with my Lord and Master. Each and every home with each heart this summons is sent out, the call comes each and every day". This is the daily stock-taking. At the end it is Gurparsad - His Grace - that would determine: "ki-aa jaanaa kiv mahagay kaisaa marna ho-a" [GGS:555.4] - "What do I know? How will I die? What sort of death will it be?"
11: Mohan Singh (Toronto, Ontario, Canada), May 05, 2014, 5:09 PM.
"kabeeraa martaa martaa jag mu-aa mar bhe na jaanai ko-ay / aisee marnee jo marai bahur na marnaa ho-ay [GGS:555] - "O Kabir, all the world is dying - but in dying, no one knows how to truly die. When death does come, may one die such a death that one does not have to die again."
12: Ek Ong Kaar Kaur Khalsa (Espanola, New Mexico, USA), May 08, 2014, 6:00 PM.
What a beautiful tribute to a wonderful friend. And what a testament to the human spirit.