The End of the World?

"It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine." - R.E.M. lyric

So, the big year is here - 2012. This is the year the Mayans supposedly predicted the end of the world; it will take place on Dec. 21, 122112, the Winter Solstice. Sounds pretty spectacular and scary, but according to the Google research I did, it's not true.

In actuality, what ends on or about Dec. 21 is the "largest grand cycle" or "current Long Count" in the Mayan calendar, which tracks time in 1,872,000 day or 5,135 year increments. The Mayans were the dominant civilization in Mexico and Central America between A.D. 250 and 900 and they kept time "on a scale few other cultures have considered," as one website put it.

What happens sometime towards the end of 2012 (the exact date is not clear) is that the Mayan calendar zeros back on itself and restarts. It is a time of transition from one "World Age" to the next - a time for celebration and renewal, not death and destruction. The limited records that exist indicate the Mayan way to mark this kind of event in time was to build new monuments, apply fresh stucco and paint, enjoy public festivities and private celebrations. There was no hoarding food or packing survival kits, just some good old fashioned fun.       

As long as people have existed, they have made predictions about when and how the world will end; so far, none of those predictions have come true. When you think about it, though, it's the end of the world for somebody - multiple somebodies - every day.

People die in car wrecks, plane wrecks and train wrecks; they drown or burn or suffer some horrible crime. Heart attacks, strokes and losing the battle with cancer take people on a daily basis, as do famine and war. Sadly, some don't wait for death to come to them, but instead, end their own lives.

The common thing about all of these deaths is that someone has to say, "Goodbye!" and "Goodbye!" is so hard to say.

As my grandfather died, my grandmother sat in a chair next to his hospital bed, holding his hand and stroking his forehead. When he passed, she knew he was gone, but she sat there, quietly doing the same things. She had such a sad and loving look on her face; it was clear her husband had been precious to her and letting him go was very hard.

As the nurses bustled about and the family came and went, she just sat there, silently, staring at his face, stroking his forehead and holding his hand.

"Mrs. Sinn, it's probably time to go now," one of the nurses said. My grandmother just sat there, as if she couldn't hear, as if she was alone in a world of her own.

A while later, another nurse came in and said the same thing, and the family, now nervously milling about, voiced a similar opinion. She just sat there, silent and far away.  

Finally, she stood up with a poignant look of sad determination on her face and said, "I've been holding this hand my whole life. Once I let go, I will never ever hold this hand again. I not ready to do that, but then I never will be."

And with that, she let go of my grandfather's hand, kissed his forehead one last time and walked away, out of that room and that hospital, never to return. My grandfather's last wish was to be cremated, so she never saw his face again.

During my years as an emergency room social worker, I saw that scene played out again and again...the widow or mother or father or son or daughter at the bedside...holding that hand, stroking that forehead...giving that final kiss...saying, "Goodbye!"

I don't know if, when or how the world will end. I'm glad it sounds like it won't be this Dec. 12 and I'm thankful for every day I don't have to say, "Good bye!" to someone or something near and dear to me. Life is so precious...but then, the Mayans knew that. That's why they marked the passing of time with such fervor and celebration.