In The Mirror and the Light, the final volume of her magnificent trilogy on the career of Henry VIII’s senior counselor Thomas Cromwell, Hilary Mantel describes her protagonist’s sense of his own mortality in three stages. One is perpetual: he witnesses the fall and rise of many in England and is responsible for a good few; he knows, especially as the son of a lowly blacksmith, how fragile is his exalted status, so dependent on the whim of the king and the mercurial turn of political and personal events. The second is shocking: within a couple of months of being elevated to the earldom of Essex, apparently near the pinnacle of the aristocracy, he’s toppled by a change in Henry’s heart, coupled with the conniving of his enemies and of some he’d considered friends; he’s sent to the Tower of London, to await execution for treason. The third is almost unbearable, as the last pages of the novel describe his final minutes as he kneels to suffer the ax.
Not everyone meets their end in these three distinct stages. But what delineating these stages makes possible is finding a way to become as ready as we could ever be to meet our Maker. Each stage has its particular qualities and opportunities. But the aim, briefly put, is to be so much at peace with one’s neighbor and oneself that when the moment comes one is ready to be with God.
The first stage, when one becomes aware of one’s mortality, is the moment to make peace with one’s neighbor. Of course we’re all dying, from the moment we’re born, so this could be anytime—but there’s nothing like a diagnosis to concentrate the mind. This stage is about being transformed from a burden to a blessing. This is the season for putting one’s financial affairs in order, writing a will, deciding who should receive mementoes and legacies, and not leaving a mess for someone else to clean up.
