The Torah reading and the haftara this week deal with the death of Sarah and Abraham, and Abraham and David’s concern for their succession.

Sarah’s persona is majestic, but her death is treated in a most perfunctory way in just two verses. The juxtaposition of her death with the episode that immediately precedes it in the biblical narrative, the near death of her beloved son Isaac at the hands of his father, implies that, as the Midrash suggests, the two incidents are related. Sarah dies of shock. The abruptness of the passage captures the abruptness of her death.

The bulk of the passage is devoted to her burial but this too has a tragic dimension. She seems to have died alone. Neither of her sons is present. She is buried and mourned by her husband.

In contrast, the narrative of Abraham’s last days is expansive. He alone of all the characters present at the binding of Isaac lands on his feet. He remarries — a woman named Ketura who the Midrash claims is actually Hagar — has six more sons, gives them all token gifts, and sends them away from home, away from Isaac, to whom he wills all he has. Then he dies, “at a good, ripe age, old and contented.” He is buried by Isaac and Ishmael. Have they reconciled? The contrast with Sarah’s last days is notable.

Abraham is buried next to Sarah. God blesses Isaac, confirming that he will be Abraham’s successor. The parsha concludes with Ishmael’s genealogy, thus effectively terminating the account of his career.

Again in contrast to Abraham, David’s last days are tormented. We do not read of his actual death this week, but we are told that he was old, advanced in years, and “never felt warm.” A beautiful young girl, Abishag the Shunamite, is delegated to wait upon the aging king.

But David’s other problems are not so easily dealt with. His son Adonijah schemes to succeed his father as king and wins the loyalty of David’s courtiers. But David had promised the succession to his son Solomon. Nathan the prophet and Solomon’s mother, Batsheva, intervene and win David’s confirmation that Solomon will indeed succeed to the throne.

Death and succession are the primary concerns of old age. Death, because as we age, we become more and more aware of our mortality, and we wonder: When will we die? How will we die? What happens to us after our death?

Succession, because as we confront our death, we wonder: What difference did we make? What impact did our lives have? How will be remembered? Who will take up our efforts?

None of us, not even Abraham or David, knows how and when we will die. But Abraham and David do what they can to deal with their succession. Abraham dies knowing that Isaac will continue his work, and David dies knowing that Solomon will succeed him as king of Israel.

But what of Sarah? According to the Midrash, she died believing that Isaac had died at Moriah. Surely, she was also aware that she had now lost both of her sons: Isaac was dead and Ishmael was banished, largely at her own initiative.

She did not know that both of her sons were still living and that they would come together to bury Abraham, as would Jacob and Esau bury their father Isaac, and as would Joseph and his brothers bury their father Jacob. Death frequently has the effect of reconciling dysfunctional families. Sometimes, as in the case of Sarah, it is tragically too late.