By Jacqueline Heller, MD
In our tiny immediate family, we had one maternal grandmother and one maternal uncle named Art. Uncle Art’s life was marked by a peculiar journey. At the tender age of eight, he, along with my mother, 16, and their parents were in a ditch underground for 2 1/2 years during the Holocaust. Many believed this experience hindered his emotional growth, leaving him highly anxious and ill-equipped to fully embrace intimacy.
Art was the last of our parents’ generation and passed away three years after my mother, reaching the age of 88.
Sometimes, it takes a significant change to gain clarity and perspective. My mother’s passing allowed me to see a new side of Uncle Art. We had an argument after her death, and he surprised me by expressing love and remorse, something I had never witnessed before.
In the three years following my mother’s death, I observed remarkable growth and maturity in Art and we found a new tenderness with each other. Contrary to the belief that people stop growing emotionally as they age, the change reinforced my knowledge that personal growth continues throughout our lives until we pass away.
Art spent his last years living independently, but we made sure to stay in touch and care for him.
Despite his previous demeanor, he started showing love and gratitude towards us. He appreciated the kindness and attention he received from three generations of our family. He became himself, shedding the life of shadowing his sister or being her appendage.
As he allowed himself to be cared for and experienced our family’s goodness, I found it easier to connect with my love for him.
He may not have been very lovable in some ways, often being curmudgeonly and angry, but he also had a sparkly and optimistic side. With time, my love for him evolved, and I hope it brought him comfort and solace, making it easier for him to leave this world.
Life review and facing mortality
Robert Butler, a renowned doctor at Mount Sinai in New York City, introduced the concept of “life review,” a nostalgic storytelling that becomes common among the elderly. As we age, our denial of mortality starts to weaken, and we begin reflecting on our lives and their meaning. This process is not exclusive to the elderly — people who have faced trauma, near-death experiences, or terminal illnesses also engage in this introspection.
Research on those nearing death reveals common themes, such as remorse, regret, and a wish for more meaningful experiences and better relationships.
It becomes evident that life is not just about material possessions but the connections we forge with others. Building a life worth remembering means cherishing good relationships, loving, and being lovable, as this keeps our stories alive and linked to our history and ancestry.
For those who fear dying alone, the thought of being forgotten or erased from memory is deeply unsettling.
Relationships lacking intimacy and connection seem less relevant in the face of mortality. Having a meaningful life intertwined with our family lineage and legacy becomes a significant aspect of our story.
In the end, Art understood that his story had become a part of our family’s legacy, just like our mother’s. As our time comes, may each of us have the same connection to our family’s history and leave behind a meaningful legacy. No hurry.
Jacqueline Heller, MD, a psychoanalyst, is board-certified in psychiatry and neurology. Her professional experience as a practicing clinician has allowed her extensive insight into the vast range of human experiences. Her new book, Yesterday Never Sleeps (Greenleaf Book Group Press, August 1, 2023), delves into her personal experience with family trauma and helping others work through their own. Learn more at her site here.
