Celebrating life when faced with tragedy
March 10th, 2010 by Wil Robinson
When tragedy or disease strikes someone wealthy – or one of their children – the family often uses their financial advantage to draw attention to the cause or to prevent similar tragedies.
After Christopher Reeve was paralyzed, he and his wife started a foundation to fund and research possible cures for spinal cord injuries. Michael J. Fox started his own group to fund research into Parkinson’s. Lance Armstrong has help fund cancer research. Former NFL star Boomer Esiason has a foundation trying to cure cystic fibrosis, an ailment that affects his son.
But you don’t have to be a millionaire. After all, part of the advantage of being (semi) wealthy is the connections that come with it.
Candice Lightner probably was never all that rich, but the posh Fair Oaks neighborhood where her 13-year-old daughter was killed in 1981 by a drunk driver certainly isn’t the ghetto. She used her advantages and connections in the community to start Mothers Against Drunk Driving.
James Brady was permanently disabled and nearly killed during the assassination attempt on President Regan. His money, exposure and political connections afforded him the opportunity to fight for gun control laws.
Cindy Sheehan became an outspoken critic of the war in Iraq after her son died while serving in the country – she made political connections and became the face of the anti-war movement.
All of these efforts are admirable – in each case, someone with some amount of wealth and/or power used it to try and create a better world.
And in each case, that motivation came when personally faced with tragedy – paralysis, Parkinson’s, cancer, drunk driving, war, etc.
Often we see a celebrity, athlete, or person with money use their advantages to try to deal with grief or mortality. They set up foundations, charities, and centers to try and avoid death – for themselves, their children, and others in similar situations.
Which is what made the event I attended last Saturday night so different.
One of my partner’s co-workers (I’ll call her “Rani”) invited us to the launching of a foundation in memory of her daughter. Three years earlier, Rani’s daughter – who was probably in her 20s – died. No one I know has asked Rani how it happened, but a few people alluded to some kind of long-term illness.
The event was well-attended. It started with live music (traditional Hindu songs about Krishna) and was followed with a talk by some kind of guru (it was in Gujarati, and I have no idea what he said – but I caught “humans’ ascending effort meets God’s descending grace” and “be who you are”).
Still, there was no mention of what had killed Rani’s daughter.
I kept wondering what goal the foundation would have – surely it would be to eradicate, cure, or fight the disease or tragedy that had taken their daughter so early in life.
Then a woman from an eye bank in Mumbai got up and made a presentation on how to donate your eyes after death. (Apparently, Rani and her husband had donated their daughter’s eyes for transplant so that a blind person can now see.) The talk was informative – going over the details, dispelling the myths, and convincing people that they could easily donate their eyes or the eyes of loved ones.
And that was it. That was the point of the foundation. No stories about how whatever killed Rani’s daughter can be stopped. No attempt to raise money to research a cure. No “awareness campaign” to prevent future tragedies.
Just a group of people spreading the word about how easy it was to donate your eyes after death. About how you could give the gift of sight to the blind. That was the point of the foundation – that in death, it was possible to share your own life with others.
Instead of trying to prevent death, Rani and her husband were celebrating the life of their daughter. They were celebrating the vision that their daughter, in her passing, had given to another person.
Rani’s family – wealthy by even Western living standards – afforded them the connections with people to make this foundation work. Their goal was to simply let people know about organ donation so that when the inevitable happens to us all, we might leave something behind.
I still don’t know what ended the life of Rani’s daughter. Her family could have tried to cure the disease (if that’s what it was). They could have done a lot of things to prevent the same from happening to someone else in the future.
But they seemed reconciled to the inevitability of death. They seemed accepting that such things happen, and that if they really wanted to remember and honor their daughter, they should celebrate life.
Some things in life are tragic, and the efforts people make to find cures for disease, prevent drunk driving, and limit firearms will truly make the world a better place.
But it was refreshing to see that, sometimes, we can just celebrate what was left behind. Sometimes, accepting death is okay.
Tags: Yet To Be Determined, foundations, eye bank, organ donation, death










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