REHEARSING FOR DEATH

Great post and discussion. Love the poem by Henry Van Dyke.

Jane, most who have responded share the experience of a loved one’s death or near so. I have witnessed my wife’s sickness and the her passing to eternity. But we have the Christian record of Jesus returning from death. I think of the words ‘death where is your sting, Hades where is your victory’ as an offer of hope. The foundation of western civilization is this hope. Jane I understand that you have had an experience that is associated with the name of Jesus. You know that it is not any ordinary name but represents God. On any level it seems to me better to hear from one who visited death and returned than from one who is merely projecting ahead to the unknown. The question is who is more trustworthy? Regards, ahti (I still can’t believe it, Barbarella got saved, YES!}

I’ve read what you wrote several times, and I’m going to copy it so I can reread it whenever I want to. I’ve enjoyed reading everyone’s comments too.

I think years ago before there were antibiotics death happened often. It was viewed as a natural occurrence. It was as much in people’s lives as living, so I think people in the past may have talked about it more than they do now, and accepted it more willingly.

For people who have been with loved ones through a life threatening illness, or gone through it themselves, you look at death “in the face.” After I did this, I saw it for what it is, and it wasn’t something I feared anymore for myself or my loved ones. There is a certain peace within you when you can do this.

After my mother died after a long illness, my sisters and I felt our mother was finally “free” from her sick body. We all felt at peace with that thought….with her being free at last! My mother had always told us, “There are a lot of things worse than death that can happen to people!” She was right!

When you said that there is something worse than death, not having fully lived, you were spot on. It worries me more that I will die and not have seen all the places that I have wanted to see, not have read all the books, seen all the movies, heard all the music, looked after all the people I love enough, all that stuff. In my family, we have had a lot of tragedy, a lot of death, but we have had a lot of wonderful moments too. My Dad is one of eleven, and our family is very big and close on both sides. I remember Rose Kennedy saying once that the bigger your family is, the more likely it is that you will have more tragedy than anybody else, but it is also more likely that you will have as many good times, or something to that effect. I used to get very depressed about dying when I was younger, but as I get older I think that you resign your self to it and do the best you can with each day that God gives you.

Jane,

When I was a child in Spain we would sometimes sit beside our diseased loved one for one or two days. The rooms would fill with smoke of candles and incense.
Family and friends would gather in praying the rosary. I remember going into a sort of trance due to the mantra like vibration created by the hums of joint prayer. In whispers memories would circle the room. At daybreak the church bells rang their call as a procession would gather to lay the beloved to rest.
The final farewell continued as we gathered at the family home to celebrate the loved ones journey over the veil.
As a child the tradition of preparing for death was always part of the landscape. It was never hidden from view.
To this day I still remember my female elders telling me that to be granted a peaceful death was a great gift.
I want to thank you Ms. Fonda for your kind and gentle reminder which has taken me back in my heart and mind’s eye to the landscape of my childhood. Something that still helps keep me well rehearsed.
Belaseed

When my Dad told me important stuff, but stuff that I could take or leave, he called me, “Sis.” As in, on my grumbling about what was for dinner: “Sis, you’re going to eat at least 80,000 meals in your lifetime; much easier just to eat everything without complaint than lose all that time to griping.”

On the death of a president or the retirement of a favorite quarterback: “No one is indispensable, sis.”

“The harder you work, sis, the luckier you’ll get.”

“Sis, if you don’t act love, you can say ‘I love you’ all you want but it won’t mean a thing.”

And, as he lay dying in hospital after a long year hosting a new and interesting visitor, cancer, in his body:
“Sis, death is just a natural part of life.”

Thank you for this blog, Jane. If we weren’t so afraid of death in this country, we’d have been able to beat back the Iraq war mongers, but they played with lies big and small on that useless fear as all who read your blog already know.

Castaneda in his Don Juan books wrote of useful death–it needs to be perched right on your shoulder throughout every day. Nothing maudlin about that– in fact, lets you take each loving step each day with the whole picture in mind and heart (in mind and brain!), moment to moment–quite a joy and a blessing.

I love your picture of your deathbed–stay well in the meantime and keep writing. Your words are solid and life/death affirming and we need them and you!

I have seen an unusual number of people die in my life for my age. My brother, my father, my best friend. I’ve seen love die. I’ve held my dog while he died. And one thing resonates in all of this. It has made me less afraid to die.

All of the wonderful brave souls that went before me, gave me the gift of understanding that everything is designed to be temporary. Change is the only constant…and death is our biggest change. But that’s all it is, simply a change. A change in our human form to a new one…a birth of sorts.

And birthes are meant to be celebrated, not mourned. That’s why I’ve told the people in my life that when I die, I want music and singing and laughter and celebration. I want people to laugh at the silly things they remember about me. And to talk about me. And to embrace my sprit.

And they better. I’ll be watching.

Jane, I’ve been on vacation recently and thus “off the Internet grid”–but your words provided me with an immensely profound and moving re-entry to your blog. Very timely, too, given the current rants about the so-called “death panels” embedded in Pres. Obama’s healthcare bill. Denying death is SO pervasive in our culture…our obsession with youth and unattainable standards of beauty all conspire against acceptance of the inevitable. Your words really hit home for me: “There’s something worse than death and that is never having fully lived.” I strive to live life fully and to accept and love my spouse, family, and friends–and especially, to unconditionally love and accept myself. That to me is living life to the fullest…and accepting the end, the “final freedom.”

Or to put it another way (thanks to a poet whose name I’ve forgotten), “Life is eternal, love is immortal, and death is only a horizon.”

was thinking on Death and the online media
St. Patricks Day with Timothy Leary in his final days
some nice Irish music with
Laura Archera Huxley , the older lady in blue was the wife of Aldous Huxley.
Together they explored consciousness issues and at his request, she administered LSD to him in the final hours of his life in 1963. After his death she wrote This Timeless Moment, describing her life with Aldous Huxley{Brave New World} , She died Dec 13, 2007 not to long after this event.Metzner, Ralph is a co-founder and was the President of the Green Earth Foundation, a non-profit educational organization devoted to healing and harmonizing the relationship between humans Timothy Learyin early 1995, Leary discovered that he was terminally ill with inoperable prostate cancer. He did not reveal the condition to the press upon diagnosis, but did so after the death of Jerry Garcia in August. I met Timothy Leary , at a lecture it must have been in the late 1980’s a performance at Long Beach Community College his wifes brother lives in Long Beach.

Wonderful post Jane. Here in Ireland we still have the ‘wake’ at the deceased person’s home. I’m not sure how I feel about this. While it is far from the idea of ‘cleaning up’ as you put it , I also find it strange to go into a living room and be handed a ham sandwich and beer which I’m expected to eat while standing over a corpse!

I think death affects those left behind more than the person for whom the end is near. They have an acceptance that we don’t – we cannot accept losing out father/mother/spouse/sister etc… I lost a loved one in 2008 and while I was almost ‘glad’ to see her free from the pain of cancer I have found it hard to get by without her and as much as people tell me she is still with us etc.. the reality is that I can’t pick up the phone and call her when I need support (selfishness?) and of course she is no longer spoken of and when I bring up her name I get those ‘looks’ from people who just don’t want to deal with their emotions. My friend planned her funeral from flowers to music when she knew her disease was terminal and people were uncomfortable with this and though she was morbid and should be fighting for a miracle.

It’s just very hard to discuss death with anyone, I’m glad you’re brave enough to mention it Jane. I don’t think about my own much , but I just hope I can face it with dignity when the time comes.

Thank you for this fascinating posting.

My mother died in hospital at age 58 in August 1982 a few hours before my planned visit home from 800 miles away. (Luckily I had visited with her two weeks earlier when the doctor first told us that she was terminally ill.) My father died in 2003 at age 80 and largely disabled by Parkinson’s disease. I was so grateful that he died in his own bed with me holding his hand and talking to him – though I am not sure if he was aware – it meant a lot to me to allow him to die as he wished.

Two years ago at age 51 I was diagnosed with cancer and treated. But the prognosis is that I have a 25% chance of dying within the next 2.5 years. I was gravely ill then but have a decent quality of life at present. Having no surviving close family members, I recently had the definitely surreal experience of making my own (pre-need) funeral arrangements including selecting my future casket.

All of us need to recognize that we are mortal – some of us simply have more poignant reminders. I think the idea of rehearsing one’s own death is a good strategy for helping to identify what is important in the remainder of one’s life however long or short that may be.

Thank you for raising an interesting topic.

Jane, my grandfather’s mother asked him to brush her long gray hair one evening. She was 92. He sat in a chair next to her bed. She said “Death can be beautiful too”. The she closed her eyes and died. I was with my father when he died of the second stroke after nearly 3 years in a hospital bed. He had regained speech and told me so many stories from his life and the war in Germany.I recorded him and he was disappointed when the tape recorder clicked off. I had promised to be there and flew to Sweden right away when things got bad. He died 2 hours after I came to his bedside, but he knew I was there. I was with my sister the whole week before she died of ovarian cancer.She said she wanted to become a guardian angel. And she is.
My mom died four days before I got there. I could not accept her death and cried for a year. I talked to her every day on the phone as she was so brave but got worse every day. She knew I was coming soon. But I was not with her when she left. I still cry.
Our best life lived frees us to leave in peace. And our best love given to our loved ones frees us to let them go in peace.
In the meantime I agree; enjoy all the colors and wonders the creator has given us.
Thank you for your thoughts. I love you for being brave and honest always.