We’re all going to die.
Some way, somehow, there’s a pretty good chance it’s going to happen to you someday. So we all might as well buck up and try to gain a healthy perspective on it.
Oh, maybe I’m being a bit presumptuous when I just assume you don’t have a tenable relationship with your inevitable demise.
After all, many cultures and religions world wide understand that it’s all part of the Circle of Life (thanks, Disney’s The Lion King!). Nevertheless, in modern Western society, death is all too often bandied about as a weapon of fear. And that’s part of the reason why I am here today.
There are two deaths in particular that stick in the gullet of my memory–one of a distant acquaintance, and the most personal one to me yet, that of my father, the beloved Bob J.
Out of respect for the life of the former, I won’t use his real name, I’ll just call him Superman instead.1Those of you who knew the man in question will get the reference, though it’s not meant to be humorous in the least. Superman was a respected member and leader of a community I was once part of, and was in his 60s with a life full of love and service under his belt.
A few years ago, he tragically went missing on his anniversary, only to be found a few days later in a nearby state park, dead, with his neck…tightened “under his belt.”
Plans for a community-wide memorial service celebrating his life were abruptly cancelled shortly after his body was discovered. It wasn’t long before it became clear why his family would make such an odd choice, given that he was literally loved by just about everyone that was even remotely acquainted with him (present company included).
Him going missing and subsequent passing was a pretty big deal in the local news media, so when his body was found, there was a certain sense of duty to publicly disclose the circumstances of his death. A sad choice, as those details were better left unsaid.
Let’s just say that those circumstances were less than flattering. Suffice it to say, he went behind his family’s back and got himself in a compromising position that went sideways. The result being him suffering an unspeakable death at the hands of another–but with his own belt, no less–and his body left to the wild animals.
I’m leaving out many details partly because they are simply sordid, and were incredibly devastating to his family and other loved ones upon learning. It was probably one of the worst ways to find out about the skeletons in a family member’s closet.
In the end, a worthy and noble life dedicated to loving others was lost in the long shadow cast by the indignity of the death which ended it.
When my dad passed, he not only lost his battle with cancer and pneumonia, but he simultaneously lost his lifelong battle with agriculture. He had spent the majority of his life as a farmer, trying to build something of a future for his family. However, having a bipolar disorder go undiagnosed until he was almost 60 largely undermined his efforts, and he literally “lost the farm” right around the time he should have been thinking about retirement instead.
Though he fought to make a living until the very end, it all eventually caught up to him. In particular, his living circumstances in the few weeks leading up to his final admission to the hospital were in no way a befitting reward for the life full of hard work which he had put in.
In a word, it was heartbreaking.
Shortly after his death, a sibling confidentially related a story to me that opened my eyes to just how humbling his last month on this earth was. The image is so heart-wrenching for me, in fact, that I keep it largely suppressed, and it is notable that I’m even partially acknowledging it here.
All I can really say is that he deserved so much better.
While ultimately he was fortunate enough to be surrounded by a wife and six of his seven kids when he finally ground his teeth one last time and gave up the ghost, the knowledge of how his last days were spent is what has haunted me.
Without going down a complete rabbit-hole, what you need to know is that after much thought I came to an interesting conclusion. When I think of all that a society could be–i.e. “What does my version of Utopia look like?”–I would argue that a fundamental right that would be guaranteed to each citizen is the right to die on their own terms.
What does this look like? Well it could look like a lot of different things.
Some may want to go out, surrounded by their adult kids fighting over a handsome inheritance.2I heard this somewhere, but can’t find who said it. I thought it was Adam Carolla, FWIW.
Others may want their last memory to be of holding the hand of the love of their lifetime.
I can imagine that many would like to leave this earth, knowing the ones they care about are in good hands, spiritually, financially or otherwise.
For my dad, his final request was to go see his cows one last time–he literally wanted to be “put out to pasture” (in the end the doctor denied this request, which, no pun intended–I thought was complete bullshit).
You get the idea, right? The sky is limitless on this one…as is the rabbit-hole is bottomless, so I’ll just leave it up to you what this might look like in your case.
I once heard that there are two particular events that largely dictate how you feel when you think back on a specific period of your life. I looked it up, and as it happens, I was thinking of what’s known as Peak-End Theory. Allow me to allow someone else summarize the essence of this idea for you:3https://positivepsychology.com/what-is-peak-end-theory/
It seems that our memories of positive and negative experiences are dependent upon two things: what we were feeling at the most extreme (peak) point and how the experience ended.
Karen Doll, Psy.D., L.P., via positivepsychology.com
The point of the story is simply this: the death we die is almost as important as the life we have lived.
This is particularly important to remember as we’re in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis. You may hear arguments that COVID-related deaths are not that big of a deal, largely because many of the people who are dying are those who would have probably died from other causes within the next 5 years otherwise (or something to that effect). They have had their turn at a long and fruitful life, so the loss of a year or two in the twilight years should be taken in stride.
And there is some truth to this, as death is an inevitable and natural part of the human experience, especially when you get past a certain age. People dying is simply part of the business of being alive. If I’ve already said this, I’m gonna go ahead and say it again: “We’re all going to die [sometime].”4I should note that people who subscribe to such alternate theories as “The Rapture” and “An Inevitable and Impending Singularity” might disagree with the absolutist nature of this assertion.
But what these sick ----- are conveniently omitting is the fact that so, so many of these people die in complete isolation, deprived of the privilege of spending their final moments with the ones they love. Even the luckier ones are usually stuck with FaceTiming their loved ones there at the end.
Those are moments that neither the living nor the dead will get back.
So if you’re tempted to think that maybe the best course of action is to largely just let COVID run its course through cluster after cluster of our elderly population,5Not to mention the smaller yet still significant non-elderly population that succumbs to it. I mourn for you when it comes for your parent and you’re forced to watch them suffer the loneliest of ways to leave this planet.
Just imagine it was your father, suffering the greatest indignity imaginable for a dying rancher: having to sit through a Zoom meeting…with his cows.6Alternate Ending: “They gave us life; the least we can give them is a death worthy of the best of who they were.” I probably should have stuck with that one…
Oh, the Humanity!7Forgive me for awkwardly trying to lighten the mood here at the end.
Content created on: 18 June & 19 September 2020 (Thurs/Sat)
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