The Beauty of What Remains: How Our Greatest Fear Becomes Our Greatest Gift
Written and Narrated By: Steve Leder
Length: 6 hrs and 20 mins
BeYONd Lovely
M’ dad’s funeral was kinda a mess. He was buried in a military cemetery (He’d hoped to be deployed to Korea but was “stuck”—thank GOSH—stateside due to mad electrical engineering skills), with full military honors, the folded flag and all that. Unfooooortunately, or kinda fooooortunately, the two young servicemen doing the flag folding rather made a mess of it. Presenting it to m’ mom, they offered a plumpy, ungainly triangle of the American flag.
And we wouldn’t have had it any other way. That was our dad: Deeply flawed, but oh how he would’ve laughed.
I’m reminded of this because author Rabbi Steve Leder is unceremoniously given his father’s tallis, a much-loved prayer shawl, and he takes it to the cleaners he’s used for decades. He tells them it has great meaning to his family, but when he returns to retrieve it, there’s a look of dread and dismay on the cleaner’s face as he’s handed a now frayed shawl, the colors bleeding into each other. It’s what remains of his very flawed, very loved, father who has been dying of Alzheimer’s for 10-years.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
The Beauty of What Remains is a gorgeous contemplation of Death, yes—but more often it’s just: How are we going to truly embrace these temporary lives of ours, living to the fullest, loving fearlessly, taking the lessons from truly horrific knocks that are doled out? Because even awful suffering offers opportunities: You don’t have to come out of the pits of despair without SOMEthing grasped tightly. Do we wish what we hold onto to be pain, fear? Or do we come out with Hope, and Greater Love?
Interspersed between conversations on Life and Death from his decades serving as Rabbi and dear friend, are his thoughts about his relationship with a father who marked Leder as his from the very first; he IS his Father’s Son. Leder could indeed have come out bitter about a childhood with little in the way of frills and hobbies and sports, but instead vindicates his father’s parenting style with: Thank you; you instilled a huge work ethic which got me to where I am. What I am is all because of you, and I thank you for it. There are stories where Leder, who narrates his own work here, is overcome with emotion, and we hear a voice thickened with unshed tears. Of love that cannot be given physically to a father who is now gone, of love that grew as he sat and sang to his father when the dementia had taken so much away.
As an End of Life Doula in training, I (Of COURSE!) found his comments on Death itself, on the process of dying, fascinating. So often he hears of how now, with this terminal diagnosis, a relationship will be on the road to Healing, that all will be forgiven, love can now be openly expressed, long-held thoughts and beliefs can now be spoken. Uhm… nooooo… he always has to say. A person will die as they’ve lived, so don’t go expecting miracles in a very human process. I’ve been taught to help guide families to Closure, to finding Meaning, dude! it’s in the coursework! So to hear of how it often plays out, by a man whose intentions are always to bring and be the best for his congregation, was a trifle sobering.
So, Doula? Emotions now moderated. Individual who will have my very own Death? Liberated and inspired.
My only quibble is that The Beauty of What Remains is primarily about expected deaths through illness and/or old age. What about the sudden death? How very, very traumatic that is? Fortunately, throughout the audiobook, Leder gives practical advice, whether it’s for those who’ve seen aged parents through extended declines, or it’s for parents who’ve lost a child and just need someone loved to be there for them, to just show up, no exceedingly somber faces or grimacing.
Again, Leder as narrator is beYONd the Right Choice for this. The warmth of his voice is comforting when he relays stories of immense sadness; the ribald humor in his voice inspires laughter when he tells a particularly loved bawdy joke. There’s immense vulnerability in his words when he speaks of his father; there’s such love when he describes his Couch of Tears where he listens to the pains of Life, offering tissues to the devastated. Absolutely phenomenal reading, no doubt about it.
So what have I learned…? Well, let’s see: That my father did the best he could coming from his own childhood. That tho’ he instilled a Fear of Getting Hurt by Life, he also taught to meet challenges with humor, preferably twisted. And that even a closed heart could be a loving and open one, given the right amount of legs and plenty of fur (Tails a plus!).
I think of him now when I see a homeless animal, always offering to it: God Be With You, Little One; God IS With You… And My Dad Is With You As Well.
It is, indeed, what remains…
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