The way we deal with death
Jan. 26th, 2011 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wendyzskiYeah, I know - srs post is srs. But obviously this subject has been on my mind a lot lately so here goes.
Our society is really screwed up when it comes to dealing with death. We do our damnedest to ignore it as much as possible and tell people to forget about it as soon as it's over with. (The actual dead people themselves are presumably excused from this last provision). People die neatly in hospitals or are whisked away immediately after accidents - all neat and tidy. Funerals are held in churches or chapels, and people don't go unless they can't possibly avoid it. We use euphemisms like "passed away" - because gods forbid you actually say the "D" word! Eulogies are spoken by preachers or speakers who may have never even known the deceased, or who have their own agenda to push. Some people even dispense with any kind of funeral or memorial altogether. And while rituals exist to help people deal with them, they may not apply to your particular chosen family situation.
But you know what? Eventually, sooner or later, someone you love is going to die. You're going to have to deal with it. And the way things are done nowadays, you may not know how to deal with it.
I sure didn't.
I come from a small family, so I hadn't had any experience with elderly relatives dying when I was young. My maternal grandfather died when I was 8 and I was judged "too young" to go to the funeral. When my maternal grandmother finally died after a decade-long struggle against Alzheimers, honestly we didn't' even HAVE a funeral because the woman we knew had been "dead" for years already.
I attended my first funeral when I was in my 20s. Derek was a fellow member of Moebius Theatre, and while I didn't know him well I was President of the company at the time and I felt obliged to go and stand in for that part of his life. The service itself was terrible - all hellfire and brimstone and whitewashing of many aspects of his life (He had died of AIDS and that "just wasn't talked about" back then.) His body was so made up as to be unrecognizable - he had really awful acne his entire life, and the figure in the casket didn't even LOOK like him! His glasses were even on straight, for likely the first time ever. I wasn't familiar with that church's traditions, so when the preacher said something and everyone shouted "AMEN!" I leaned over to
Our society is really screwed up when it comes to dealing with death. We do our damnedest to ignore it as much as possible and tell people to forget about it as soon as it's over with. (The actual dead people themselves are presumably excused from this last provision). People die neatly in hospitals or are whisked away immediately after accidents - all neat and tidy. Funerals are held in churches or chapels, and people don't go unless they can't possibly avoid it. We use euphemisms like "passed away" - because gods forbid you actually say the "D" word! Eulogies are spoken by preachers or speakers who may have never even known the deceased, or who have their own agenda to push. Some people even dispense with any kind of funeral or memorial altogether. And while rituals exist to help people deal with them, they may not apply to your particular chosen family situation.
But you know what? Eventually, sooner or later, someone you love is going to die. You're going to have to deal with it. And the way things are done nowadays, you may not know how to deal with it.
I sure didn't.
I come from a small family, so I hadn't had any experience with elderly relatives dying when I was young. My maternal grandfather died when I was 8 and I was judged "too young" to go to the funeral. When my maternal grandmother finally died after a decade-long struggle against Alzheimers, honestly we didn't' even HAVE a funeral because the woman we knew had been "dead" for years already.
I attended my first funeral when I was in my 20s. Derek was a fellow member of Moebius Theatre, and while I didn't know him well I was President of the company at the time and I felt obliged to go and stand in for that part of his life. The service itself was terrible - all hellfire and brimstone and whitewashing of many aspects of his life (He had died of AIDS and that "just wasn't talked about" back then.) His body was so made up as to be unrecognizable - he had really awful acne his entire life, and the figure in the casket didn't even LOOK like him! His glasses were even on straight, for likely the first time ever. I wasn't familiar with that church's traditions, so when the preacher said something and everyone shouted "AMEN!" I leaned over to
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<ljuser="jce_da_dmg">') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
Yeah, I know - srs post is srs. But obviously this subject has been on my mind a lot lately so here goes.
<lj-cut text="Our society is really screwed up when it comes to dealing with death">
Our society is really screwed up when it comes to dealing with death. We do our damnedest to ignore it as much as possible and tell people to forget about it as soon as it's over with. (The actual dead people themselves are presumably excused from this last provision). People die neatly in hospitals or are whisked away immediately after accidents - all neat and tidy. Funerals are held in churches or chapels, and people don't go unless they can't possibly avoid it. We use euphemisms like "passed away" - because gods forbid you actually say the "D" word! Eulogies are spoken by preachers or speakers who may have never even known the deceased, or who have their own agenda to push. Some people even dispense with any kind of funeral or memorial altogether. And while rituals exist to help people deal with them, they may not apply to your particular chosen family situation.
But you know what? Eventually, sooner or later, someone you love is going to die. You're going to have to deal with it. And the way things are done nowadays, you may not know how to deal with it.
I sure didn't.
I come from a small family, so I hadn't had any experience with elderly relatives dying when I was young. My maternal grandfather died when I was 8 and I was judged "too young" to go to the funeral. When my maternal grandmother finally died after a decade-long struggle against Alzheimers, honestly we didn't' even HAVE a funeral because the woman we knew had been "dead" for years already.
I attended my first funeral when I was in my 20s. Derek was a fellow member of Moebius Theatre, and while I didn't know him well I was President of the company at the time and I felt obliged to go and stand in for that part of his life. The service itself was terrible - all hellfire and brimstone and whitewashing of many aspects of his life (He had died of AIDS and that "just wasn't talked about" back then.) His body was so made up as to be unrecognizable - he had really awful acne his entire life, and the figure in the casket didn't even LOOK like him! His glasses were even on straight, for likely the first time ever. I wasn't familiar with that church's traditions, so when the preacher said something and everyone shouted "AMEN!" I leaned over to <ljuser="jce_da_dmg"> and whispered <i>"I didn't know we had LINES?"</i> It was a horror show and didn't say a single thing about the man who was supposed to be the focus of the event.
But after the show we all went back to someone's house, ordered in a couple of pizzas, put in some show tapes, and watched them while we told funny or silly or just every day Derek stories. It was waaay more moving and healing than anything that had taken place in that funeral chapel.
I didn't attend my maternal grandmother's funeral, but I did attend her deathbed. I was holding her hand and my Uncle (her son) and Aunt were with her when she died. This was really my first encounter with death close up and personal. This is also where I developed an annoyance for euphemisms, because there wasn't anything vague about it. She was alive and then she was dead - there wasn't anything vague about it. I remember looking blankly at the nurse when she offered to let me "spend some time with her alone" - by which she meant her body - before they had her taken away. I thought <i>"why on earth would I want to do THAT?"<i> because it was VERY clear that my grandmother wasn't there any more, so what would be the point? Of course, then I had to call my mother and tell her that her mother was dead - that wasn't a fun phone call. Being there was a terrible and painful experience, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
One thing about my mother's reaction puzzled me. Years beforehand I had given my grandmother one of those "Grandparent's Books" in which they are supposed to write down things about their lives. I found it in her house. My mother refused to even look at it. She didn't want to read it, or even know that it existed. I could understand that at first, but as time went on it made me sad, because she was missing out on some really great stories. After a couple of years, I photocopied the parts that had to do with my mom, bound them up, and gave them to my mother as a Mother's Day present. I still don't know if she's ever looked at them. I still have that book, and lately I've been pondering giving it to my brother to pass on to his daughter - I'm sure not going to have any kids so it should go to someone in the family.
But a death in the family, while tragic, is at least understood. There are things you do "for the family" - you send flowers, condolence cards, ask if they are OK, make casseroles, that sort of thing. When <ljuser="jfc013"> died, I was devastated - she was closer to me than any member of my blood family, and that was ignored. This was complicated by the fact that she expressly told me that she did NOT want people to know how ill she really was - so as I sat in the Hospice with her those last few days I had a very limited circle of people i could tell about it. My job had no provision for bereavement leave for non-related persons, and even using personal time I was sharply criticized for taking the time I needed to be by her side. When it became clear that it was a matter of hours and not days, I told her that I was going to start telling people because they needed time to prepare - I know it was the right decision, and I told her that she was welcome to come back and haunt my ass if she wanted but i was going to do it anyway - so there was also a measure of guilt over it as well. I only received one single condolence card. Society had no place for my pain of grief because it didn't fit into a box. And because I'd not experienced this sort of thing growing up I didn't have any tools to handle or express how I was feeling or to process my loss.
Thank goodness <lj user-"ashtalet"> got me added to the list of people eligible to receive "Grief Counseling" through some benefit or other. I didn't really know what to expect but I knew I wasn't handling things well. I only went to a couple of sessions - mostly to get referrals for books or coping strategies that I could use to work through things on my own. But most importantly, I learned that what I was feeling had a name. It's called 'Disenfranchised Grief' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disenfranchised_grief) and it's "a term describing grief that is not acknowledged by society." Just knowing that what I was going through had a name and was acknowledged to be "real" and professionals at least KNEW that it was hard and it sucked - that helped me a lot.
We build our own communities - online, in fandom, at faires, in our intimate relationships and our "family by choice" - but the fact that many of these families are not acknowledged by "society" at large can make things very difficult for us. However, that is changing. A recent policy change by the Obama administration requires that hospitals which accept Medicare and Medicaid allow patients to designate who they wish to as "family". Media coverage of this has mostly focused on the fact that it will allow gay couples to be considered "family members" in states where they cannot marry or form civil unions. It is true that there have been some terrible injustices in these kinds of cases, the new policy extends beyond those specific cases. If you'd rather have your "family" consist of your two polyamorous partners and your best friend since grade school, then that is now your right. So there at least our society seems to be on the right track.
And having experienced a couple of variations on the Jewish custom of 'sitting shiva', I do have to say that it makes a whole lot of psychological sense. In it's most basic form, it's about making sure that you take the time to grieve. No one expects you to bounce back into your "normal" life after a loss - you need time. And not only do you need taking care of, others who grieve need to take care of you, so they visit and bring food so that you don't have to worry about cooking. You say certain things at certain times because there is comfort in familiar rituals. And after whatever period of time you have decided on, and the end you do something specific to say to yourself and others "OK, I've done my grieving and it's time to go on with my life". At the barest minimum you go outside and walk around the block, and then come back into your home and start to take up the threads of your new "normal" life.
When <user site="livejournal.com" user="alliesutherland"> died last month, I knew that I wanted to go to her memorial. Even though we had only met in the flesh on three occasions we had known each other online for about a decade. I knew how much she valued her faire and online families, and how out-of-place she often felt in her small-town-Kentucky setting. I wanted to go, because the manner of her death was SO sudden and SO unfair that I needed the healing to be found when people gather. But more importantly I *needed* to go because there were things that needed to be said to the people she grew up and lived among and I needed to be the person to say them. I really couldn't afford it, and spending a weekend in January driving across several states with a sick bunny in the backseat to a service in a tiny Methodist church isn't exactly my idea of "fun".
I'm still a bit ticked off that people who always claimed to be her friends and who would drive anywhere on a moment's notice couldn't be arsed to bestir themselves to attend. Yes, there are people who had reasons - family issues, physical disabilities, new babies or pregnancies, money problems. But there are a bunch of people that this didn't apply to - who didn't come because they were uncomfortable with the idea of going to a "funeral" so they shoved it aside like so many of us do with things we just don't want to do, and ignored it.
And don't even get me started on the people who got all mad because of how they heard about it, because they didn't get a personal phone call from Clay, or even the order they were notified. THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU!! How DARE you place any more of a burden on a man already suffering unimaginable loss on Christmas Eve Day of all times, because you're ticked off that you got a call from 'a friend' rather than him. I wish I couldn't even imagine that kind of selfishness, but now I can. <i>
<i>(Personally, the first thing I ask when I am informed about a death is "who can I notify for you?" - because the point is to get the word out and do whatever you can to make the job easier for everyone. Also, I do best under stress when I have something to DO.)</i>
But as I told Lori's father "This is why we have jobs - so that when we have to we can do the things we needed to do". And I needed to do this. I needed to be there to stand in for people like <user site="livejournal.com" user="capi"> who is too ill to travel, and for James who recently had knee surgery, and for Cyd who is newly pregnant. I needed to be there to show the local people just how many lives Lori touched - that this woman who rarely left her house because of her physical limitations, and who was often mocked and belittled when she did because of her appearance - the she MATTERED. That she was loved and cherished and will be deeply missed. They needed to hear it, and I needed to be one of the ones to say it.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not a good idea to keep ignoring death = you're going to have to learn to deal with it eventually, so you might as well get the practice. And if you don't know what to say, then say that. "You know, I don't really know what to say, but I'm sorry and I'm here if you need me". If the rituals of a particular faith don't appeal to you, or there are reasons why you can't attend a formal ceremony, then come up with a ritual of your own to mark the time or the occasion - have a video party, say a prayer, or plant a garden, or sign up for a charity walk, or buy a shirt that you know the deceased would really love (or really hate) and wear it, or learn to knit or try to watch that movie that they loved so much and you really can't stand - with a box of tissues by your side. Take out your grief and look at it, and then DO something with it or about it. Because by ignoring it you are robbing yourself of something precious and important. Rage if you must, but don't turn away. Because in the end, you can't ignore Death.
<lj-cut text="Our society is really screwed up when it comes to dealing with death">
Our society is really screwed up when it comes to dealing with death. We do our damnedest to ignore it as much as possible and tell people to forget about it as soon as it's over with. (The actual dead people themselves are presumably excused from this last provision). People die neatly in hospitals or are whisked away immediately after accidents - all neat and tidy. Funerals are held in churches or chapels, and people don't go unless they can't possibly avoid it. We use euphemisms like "passed away" - because gods forbid you actually say the "D" word! Eulogies are spoken by preachers or speakers who may have never even known the deceased, or who have their own agenda to push. Some people even dispense with any kind of funeral or memorial altogether. And while rituals exist to help people deal with them, they may not apply to your particular chosen family situation.
But you know what? Eventually, sooner or later, someone you love is going to die. You're going to have to deal with it. And the way things are done nowadays, you may not know how to deal with it.
I sure didn't.
I come from a small family, so I hadn't had any experience with elderly relatives dying when I was young. My maternal grandfather died when I was 8 and I was judged "too young" to go to the funeral. When my maternal grandmother finally died after a decade-long struggle against Alzheimers, honestly we didn't' even HAVE a funeral because the woman we knew had been "dead" for years already.
I attended my first funeral when I was in my 20s. Derek was a fellow member of Moebius Theatre, and while I didn't know him well I was President of the company at the time and I felt obliged to go and stand in for that part of his life. The service itself was terrible - all hellfire and brimstone and whitewashing of many aspects of his life (He had died of AIDS and that "just wasn't talked about" back then.) His body was so made up as to be unrecognizable - he had really awful acne his entire life, and the figure in the casket didn't even LOOK like him! His glasses were even on straight, for likely the first time ever. I wasn't familiar with that church's traditions, so when the preacher said something and everyone shouted "AMEN!" I leaned over to <ljuser="jce_da_dmg"> and whispered <i>"I didn't know we had LINES?"</i> It was a horror show and didn't say a single thing about the man who was supposed to be the focus of the event.
But after the show we all went back to someone's house, ordered in a couple of pizzas, put in some show tapes, and watched them while we told funny or silly or just every day Derek stories. It was waaay more moving and healing than anything that had taken place in that funeral chapel.
I didn't attend my maternal grandmother's funeral, but I did attend her deathbed. I was holding her hand and my Uncle (her son) and Aunt were with her when she died. This was really my first encounter with death close up and personal. This is also where I developed an annoyance for euphemisms, because there wasn't anything vague about it. She was alive and then she was dead - there wasn't anything vague about it. I remember looking blankly at the nurse when she offered to let me "spend some time with her alone" - by which she meant her body - before they had her taken away. I thought <i>"why on earth would I want to do THAT?"<i> because it was VERY clear that my grandmother wasn't there any more, so what would be the point? Of course, then I had to call my mother and tell her that her mother was dead - that wasn't a fun phone call. Being there was a terrible and painful experience, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
One thing about my mother's reaction puzzled me. Years beforehand I had given my grandmother one of those "Grandparent's Books" in which they are supposed to write down things about their lives. I found it in her house. My mother refused to even look at it. She didn't want to read it, or even know that it existed. I could understand that at first, but as time went on it made me sad, because she was missing out on some really great stories. After a couple of years, I photocopied the parts that had to do with my mom, bound them up, and gave them to my mother as a Mother's Day present. I still don't know if she's ever looked at them. I still have that book, and lately I've been pondering giving it to my brother to pass on to his daughter - I'm sure not going to have any kids so it should go to someone in the family.
But a death in the family, while tragic, is at least understood. There are things you do "for the family" - you send flowers, condolence cards, ask if they are OK, make casseroles, that sort of thing. When <ljuser="jfc013"> died, I was devastated - she was closer to me than any member of my blood family, and that was ignored. This was complicated by the fact that she expressly told me that she did NOT want people to know how ill she really was - so as I sat in the Hospice with her those last few days I had a very limited circle of people i could tell about it. My job had no provision for bereavement leave for non-related persons, and even using personal time I was sharply criticized for taking the time I needed to be by her side. When it became clear that it was a matter of hours and not days, I told her that I was going to start telling people because they needed time to prepare - I know it was the right decision, and I told her that she was welcome to come back and haunt my ass if she wanted but i was going to do it anyway - so there was also a measure of guilt over it as well. I only received one single condolence card. Society had no place for my pain of grief because it didn't fit into a box. And because I'd not experienced this sort of thing growing up I didn't have any tools to handle or express how I was feeling or to process my loss.
Thank goodness <lj user-"ashtalet"> got me added to the list of people eligible to receive "Grief Counseling" through some benefit or other. I didn't really know what to expect but I knew I wasn't handling things well. I only went to a couple of sessions - mostly to get referrals for books or coping strategies that I could use to work through things on my own. But most importantly, I learned that what I was feeling had a name. It's called 'Disenfranchised Grief' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disenfranchised_grief) and it's "a term describing grief that is not acknowledged by society." Just knowing that what I was going through had a name and was acknowledged to be "real" and professionals at least KNEW that it was hard and it sucked - that helped me a lot.
We build our own communities - online, in fandom, at faires, in our intimate relationships and our "family by choice" - but the fact that many of these families are not acknowledged by "society" at large can make things very difficult for us. However, that is changing. A recent policy change by the Obama administration requires that hospitals which accept Medicare and Medicaid allow patients to designate who they wish to as "family". Media coverage of this has mostly focused on the fact that it will allow gay couples to be considered "family members" in states where they cannot marry or form civil unions. It is true that there have been some terrible injustices in these kinds of cases, the new policy extends beyond those specific cases. If you'd rather have your "family" consist of your two polyamorous partners and your best friend since grade school, then that is now your right. So there at least our society seems to be on the right track.
And having experienced a couple of variations on the Jewish custom of 'sitting shiva', I do have to say that it makes a whole lot of psychological sense. In it's most basic form, it's about making sure that you take the time to grieve. No one expects you to bounce back into your "normal" life after a loss - you need time. And not only do you need taking care of, others who grieve need to take care of you, so they visit and bring food so that you don't have to worry about cooking. You say certain things at certain times because there is comfort in familiar rituals. And after whatever period of time you have decided on, and the end you do something specific to say to yourself and others "OK, I've done my grieving and it's time to go on with my life". At the barest minimum you go outside and walk around the block, and then come back into your home and start to take up the threads of your new "normal" life.
When <user site="livejournal.com" user="alliesutherland"> died last month, I knew that I wanted to go to her memorial. Even though we had only met in the flesh on three occasions we had known each other online for about a decade. I knew how much she valued her faire and online families, and how out-of-place she often felt in her small-town-Kentucky setting. I wanted to go, because the manner of her death was SO sudden and SO unfair that I needed the healing to be found when people gather. But more importantly I *needed* to go because there were things that needed to be said to the people she grew up and lived among and I needed to be the person to say them. I really couldn't afford it, and spending a weekend in January driving across several states with a sick bunny in the backseat to a service in a tiny Methodist church isn't exactly my idea of "fun".
I'm still a bit ticked off that people who always claimed to be her friends and who would drive anywhere on a moment's notice couldn't be arsed to bestir themselves to attend. Yes, there are people who had reasons - family issues, physical disabilities, new babies or pregnancies, money problems. But there are a bunch of people that this didn't apply to - who didn't come because they were uncomfortable with the idea of going to a "funeral" so they shoved it aside like so many of us do with things we just don't want to do, and ignored it.
And don't even get me started on the people who got all mad because of how they heard about it, because they didn't get a personal phone call from Clay, or even the order they were notified. THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU!! How DARE you place any more of a burden on a man already suffering unimaginable loss on Christmas Eve Day of all times, because you're ticked off that you got a call from 'a friend' rather than him. I wish I couldn't even imagine that kind of selfishness, but now I can. <i>
<i>(Personally, the first thing I ask when I am informed about a death is "who can I notify for you?" - because the point is to get the word out and do whatever you can to make the job easier for everyone. Also, I do best under stress when I have something to DO.)</i>
But as I told Lori's father "This is why we have jobs - so that when we have to we can do the things we needed to do". And I needed to do this. I needed to be there to stand in for people like <user site="livejournal.com" user="capi"> who is too ill to travel, and for James who recently had knee surgery, and for Cyd who is newly pregnant. I needed to be there to show the local people just how many lives Lori touched - that this woman who rarely left her house because of her physical limitations, and who was often mocked and belittled when she did because of her appearance - the she MATTERED. That she was loved and cherished and will be deeply missed. They needed to hear it, and I needed to be one of the ones to say it.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not a good idea to keep ignoring death = you're going to have to learn to deal with it eventually, so you might as well get the practice. And if you don't know what to say, then say that. "You know, I don't really know what to say, but I'm sorry and I'm here if you need me". If the rituals of a particular faith don't appeal to you, or there are reasons why you can't attend a formal ceremony, then come up with a ritual of your own to mark the time or the occasion - have a video party, say a prayer, or plant a garden, or sign up for a charity walk, or buy a shirt that you know the deceased would really love (or really hate) and wear it, or learn to knit or try to watch that movie that they loved so much and you really can't stand - with a box of tissues by your side. Take out your grief and look at it, and then DO something with it or about it. Because by ignoring it you are robbing yourself of something precious and important. Rage if you must, but don't turn away. Because in the end, you can't ignore Death.
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:30 pm (UTC)I'll offer just one observation: the "passed on" and similar euphemisms are products of Christian ideology. The whole idea is that because of Jesus, people do not die any more, but pass on into the Kingdom of Heaven.
I agree it's a euphemism, but if it helps people to think that their loved one has simply gone into another life, I'm not going to argue with them about it.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 05:56 pm (UTC)This year, we'll be doing the MS Walk again as we usually do, and I won't be in a position to actually *walk* that far by then, so I'm going to see about setting up a rest stop in Lori's honor. I wish I could do more. Because of timing, I'm not going to make it to GARF this year to do so for her... So it may need to wait until MDRF, but there will be dancing by the dead this year.
There've unfortunately been a number of losses in my life that I barely make mention of publically... Because people don't understand. People expect you to get over it, and get over it within two weeks. If you're still upset when more than two weeks has gone by, you're just oversensitive as far as they're concerned.
In the past, it was considered normal to have a year of mourning after a spouse passed on. There are family members who are close to you who mean a lot (that's both blood family and family of choice), and people expect that you are going to get over it now and that's that. "When are you going to get over that and move on with your life?" You know what? Grieving *IS* "getting over that". It's dealing with it instead of burying it so it pops out as something inappropriate later.
This last year has unfortunately dealt more death to people around me than I have ever had to deal with in my life... And people will put up with it temporarily, and then ask you when you're going to get on with things. We each deal with grief in our own way, and there is no linear chart to it. Anniversaries of a death, reminders, all of them will serve to bring grief back up to the surface for a little while... And the rest of the world should actually learn to deal with it rather than smother it.
I hate to say this, but when I was down at my parents' house for Christmas and told them Lori had died, my father's form of condolences was to say that when he knew someone who died, he tried to be happy for the fact that he was still alive. Well thanks, Dad. No "I'm sorry for your loss", just a "well, try and be happy." That's not how it works, at least not for me. I need to find something constructive to do with the grief, not just bury it and smile.
I wish I could have been there. Thank you for being there.
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 06:31 pm (UTC)I'm not. Death is the one area in my life that I'm able to somewhat compartmentalize for some reason. I get through the funeral and wakes and such, and then go home and BAWL my ever lovin eyes out. Sometimes the grief doesn't hit me until a year or two after. Like my grandmother for example. I miss her now a LOT now that I have a kid, but when she died it wasn't sad for me. I don't KNOW WHY.
The weirdest part? death of pets hit me much HARDER than humans...
I think the victorian attitude was a little MORE healthy, not entirely healthy but more healthy- you wore clothes that were a visual cue that you were missing someone, and there is something to that.
(no subject)
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Date: 2011-01-26 06:37 pm (UTC)As a believer, I do think that there is hope beyond the grave, so I don't object to phrases like "passing on." But I agree that it can simply be nothing more than a euphemism, a way of evading, rather then accepting, the reality of death. For death, even with the hope of resurrection, is still painful to deal with. Jesus himself wept at the graveside of his friend.
Thanks, Wendy, for a thoughtful and moving post.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 07:00 pm (UTC)I don't remember if I posted how I deal with death. But 2010 was a big year for dealing with it - on top of dealing with other major life changes.
Years ago I didn't have the capacity to understand how to deal with the loss of my grandfathers. But then between November 2009 and July 2010, I lost 3 of my grandmothers. (I have 4).
One grandmother insisted that she didn't want a funeral, so there wasn't one. At some point there will be a memorial service, but thusfar, it still hasn't been planned (she died the day after Thanksgiving, 2009). One grandmother died in Januaryish 2010...I wasn't notified until July 2010. No one bothered to tell my side of the family. Going to her funeral wasn't an option. I actually have questions of my aunt, she's left no forwarding address. One grandmother died in April 2010. I went to that funeral. There was not a single thing in this world that was going to keep me from that funeral).
That being said, I need to *do* something with my grief. I can't let it sit and fester. These are people that I love, and not doing anything with these emotions ends up crippling me. So I sit and reflect on them, and their lives, and my interactions with them. How were they important in my life - and I look to see if there is something of their life that I can add to mine that brings value. That way a piece of them lives on.
(no subject)
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From:(no subject)
From:Thank you Wendy
Date: 2011-01-26 07:45 pm (UTC)When my mom died last year, I spent a lot of the days before she died grieving but once she actually did die, it took a while to set in. We had a memorial service that my cousin (who's a priest) did and it was a true and meaningful closure. He knew my mom very well and had visited her quite a bit over the past year.
I think most people don't know how to deal with the grief that comes with the passing of a friend. I know with few exceptions, I'm not real close to a lot of my actual related family. My family by choice is a far bigger part of my life, along with my fannish family. I'm glad to hear that society may be starting to acknowledge that.
Re: Thank you Wendy
From:Re: Thank you Wendy
From:Re: Thank you Wendy
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-26 11:05 pm (UTC)And then the morning before he died, my sister in law, who had been his caregiver before they cast him. Off like an old pair of socks, basically eulogized him of facebook. Before he even died. When they hadn't given a single thought to him over the last six months, and all their friends commented how wonderful they were and I started screaming at the computer. I haven't spoken to them since. I'd been caring for him and taking him to all the vet appointments and spent almost three thousand dollars on vet bills and keeping him from attacking my other dog and carrying him up and down the stairs three times a day aend their friends were patting them on the back for doing such a good job.
And to care for him for the last six months and know there was nothing I could do, he would get worse and worse, and he did, and to watch this dog stumble more and more and drag his feet, and dammit he was still happy with that little face and even being on his third home he trusted me.
Its not just being sad, its being relieved and guilty and sick and so angry and wanting to go back in time and fix things but only seeing the mistakes.
And like you said with expectations of grief, I keep expecting to move on, to have a scab on the wound, and some days it's fine, but others it feels more like a knife to the gut.
(I'm sorry for writing so much, the words just kept coming out. Also, sorry about the weird typos, I'm on my ipad and it is weird sometimes.)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 02:19 am (UTC)Someone was trying to express condolences to me, and was saying they were bad at this, they never knew what to say. I told them it's not what people say, barring completely stupid or hurtful stuff, but that they say something that acknowledges that you're in pain, and they wish they could do something. Really, it's the silence, or ignoring what's going on that really hurts.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:Great post
Date: 2011-01-27 02:37 am (UTC)As for my own upbringing with death...I didn't realize until I was 30 that the way my family dealt dying was really abnormal. Let's leave it at that.
Re: Great post
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 03:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
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.
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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.
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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.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 05:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 07:00 pm (UTC)If you've never seen this before...it's really worth watching. It's about the home funeral "revival." It's one of the best things I've EVER seen on television. Ever.
I plan to lay my Mom out at home when she dies.
I was raised by extended family. My first cousins-once removed. When my "Aunt" passed away...it was hard because the level of grief I had did not match our "level of relation" in other people's minds. I had to keep stopping to explain that until I was eleven...my Mom worked nights...and these were the people who 'parented' me. I called them "Aunt and Uncle" but they did the job of parents. I had to argue with work to get funeral leave...to the point where I had to dig through boxes to get the court papers that declared them my "Limited Custodial Guardians" to show work that I had a RIGHT to the time off under our leave policy...which torqued me off. (If I wanted to lie...I'd have just told them my Grandma died...)
I try never to judge people around funerals. I've seen people go into full on fits of hysteria. At a co-worker's funeral a few years back...someone fainted. My best friend has had a panic attack at my Uncle Henry's funeral...(I forgot to mention his twin brother Bill...and we laid him out in a suit that looked a LOT like my Uncle Henry's...she thought she was seeing a ghost. A ghost who was eating coffee and cookies...it was funny...much later.)
So...if someone doesn't go to a funeral...I never assume it has anything to do with their level of love for the person...but moreso how well they do at funerals...which are for the living anyway. The dead are...dead. It's the nature of all things to age, sicken and die.
It's one of the nice things about Zen...when a practitioner dies...we sit meditation with the body. Sitting quietly with a body...minding your breathing...it takes away the mystery and leaves you with the reality that excessive grief is clinging...and your sangha-brother or sister would want you to honor their practice by not clinging. (Which in Buddhism is generally considered to be something you don't want.) There are times set aside specifically to honor the dead...so the rest of the time you can get back to business.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-28 11:46 pm (UTC)Thanks for posting all this, Wendy, and triggering this thread. And thank you for shouldering the task of showing those folks that Lori *mattered*. I've said for years that we (our culture) is completely screwed up when it comes to the whole entire issue of death, and you really put it out there. Thank you.
Besides, today, i was hurting for Lori a little extra, and this thread helped me that way. *smile* Love you, Wendy. So glad we're on the same team.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-29 07:18 pm (UTC)I remember Derek from APA69 and some long serious talks about AIDS back in the day.
re janet - I loved her memorial service, and that we all took home stuffed animals, and that it was a costume event and I created a 'CLex' costume in her honor. I'm also glad that I knew ahead of time.
I remember spending much time with Mike (my first boyfriend) as he was dying and at one point asking Pooch if he was okay with me spending every evening driving an hour to sit by Mike's side and stoke his hair so he woudl fall asleep - and Pooch saying that I wouldn't be the person he loved if I didn't.
RE Family of choice access - I have specifically listed Pooch and Holly to have visitiation rights in my medical power of attorney since it is likely my Dad would fight it.
re folks getting pissed - My aunt had a fit when my mom died that there was not a 'family car' to pick her up and drive her to the service, I explained that I was paying for the service out of my own pocket and I could see if someone in her neighborhood could give her a ride if she wasn't comfortable driving. She has not talked to me since then (over 15 years ago)
Re ORDER people told in - I didn't know my mom had died for 3 days - until I was trying to get ahold of her and the line was busy for days and I called my step brother and he was shocked I didn't know - seems my "step dad" "forgot" to tell the police my mom had a daughter to inform.
also remember to tell folks you care when they are here, that they are meaning ful in your life - maybe that should be a meme - what woudl you say at my memorial?
I have very detailed explination on quality of life in my documents since I know my father is 'keep someone on life support forever' type of person and I am not - thus Pooch then his Mom are my power of attorney for health care.
I grew up with a pretty healthy view of death with mom being an ER nurse, and holding a friend as he bled out when I was about 15, and then mom doing hospice and almost weekly helping someone die at home.
re going to funerals or not - I have opted out a few times because I know that my being there would be hurtful to others in their live and I was able to morn in my own ways, so it was out of being considerate. Or there are times that I've already said my goodbuys and I find that I would rather give in their name or such then goto the public event.
Also I have to give Kudos to my pseudo-daughter who realized her friend was dying and decided she would rather book the flight and spend a week with her on her death bed, yes it meant no trip over from england for a funerla but I think she make the right choice.
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Date: 2011-02-02 01:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
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