I had to digest this for awhile. I'm not sure how I learned to deal with death. I'm not sure that I really know. I've lost so many friends now, to AIDS, to accident, to illness and old age, even to evil intent. Some times the grief strikes at odd moments. I hear or see something and think I must tell X about this, then realize I cannot, and the loss is as fresh as if it just happens. Sometimes I can think of the person and be glad I had the chance to know them.
I'm not as good at condolences as I should be. I know that it doesn't have to be a lot, but it does have to be something. Personal experience being the teacher that it is. I *know* that it has to be something.
And you are so very right about the separateness of death in our culture. There is a (very butchered) Hindu proverb, every birth is bringing a death into the world. Death is as much a part of our lives as growing, but we choose to ignore it, to deny it. We turn away from those who are approaching it far too often.
When my step-father was in the end stage of a 10 year battle with bone cancer, his doctor informed my mother that it was time for her to put him into care. She said she wasn't going to, that she would be keeping him home. He actually told her that she couldn't, that she didn't have a choice. He was fired immediately. Bruce died 2 months later in my parents home, in a borrowed hospital bed in the front room with a view of the St. Joe river. Hospice helpers came daily for the last 4 weeks, shooed my mother out of the house for a few hours while they took care of him. I think Bruce would have died more quickly if he had been placed in a nursing home environment. I think his end would have been horrible, instead of peaceful. And I know it would have broken my mother not to have had him home. --- The last friend that I lost to death was Patrick Reed, aka Furp. The hardest thing was seeing him at the visitation and all I could think was what an awful job the mortuary had done. That wasn't Furp. It didn't look anything like my friend. Then it struck me, I had never seen his face not animated, not mobile and alight with glee, with mischief. It wouldn't have mattered how good a job they had done. Furp wasn't in there. I still wish I could have stayed for the memorial, but other obligations are still obligations. It would have helped. -------------- I've spoken with my family about my death, about their deaths. My mother is in her 70s, my older sister has MS. I'm obese. My younger sister drives like a maniac (unless her kids are in the car, which frankly surprised the hell out of me, she's scared me more than once.) We each of us made our views on "after care" pretty clear. Organ donations - yes, extraordinary measures - no. The discussion bothered my younger sister, a lot. But I think it was probably one of the healthiest, most useful family talks we've ever had.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2011-01-27 04:14 am (UTC)I'm not as good at condolences as I should be. I know that it doesn't have to be a lot, but it does have to be something. Personal experience being the teacher that it is. I *know* that it has to be something.
And you are so very right about the separateness of death in our culture. There is a (very butchered) Hindu proverb, every birth is bringing a death into the world. Death is as much a part of our lives as growing, but we choose to ignore it, to deny it. We turn away from those who are approaching it far too often.
When my step-father was in the end stage of a 10 year battle with bone cancer, his doctor informed my mother that it was time for her to put him into care. She said she wasn't going to, that she would be keeping him home. He actually told her that she couldn't, that she didn't have a choice. He was fired immediately. Bruce died 2 months later in my parents home, in a borrowed hospital bed in the front room with a view of the St. Joe river. Hospice helpers came daily for the last 4 weeks, shooed my mother out of the house for a few hours while they took care of him. I think Bruce would have died more quickly if he had been placed in a nursing home environment. I think his end would have been horrible, instead of peaceful. And I know it would have broken my mother not to have had him home.
---
The last friend that I lost to death was Patrick Reed, aka Furp. The hardest thing was seeing him at the visitation and all I could think was what an awful job the mortuary had done. That wasn't Furp. It didn't look anything like my friend. Then it struck me, I had never seen his face not animated, not mobile and alight with glee, with mischief. It wouldn't have mattered how good a job they had done. Furp wasn't in there. I still wish I could have stayed for the memorial, but other obligations are still obligations. It would have helped.
--------------
I've spoken with my family about my death, about their deaths. My mother is in her 70s, my older sister has MS. I'm obese. My younger sister drives like a maniac (unless her kids are in the car, which frankly surprised the hell out of me, she's scared me more than once.) We each of us made our views on "after care" pretty clear. Organ donations - yes, extraordinary measures - no. The discussion bothered my younger sister, a lot. But I think it was probably one of the healthiest, most useful family talks we've ever had.
sorry, random reply is random.