On Death and Dying
Death takes many shapes and many forms. At the end of a well-lived long life. Or a life suddenly cut short. Not waking up after a night’s sleep. Walking out of the door and never coming home. A protracted process that causes great distress to the person dying and those around them. Life and death in this inescapable dance.
We might unknowingly have a health bomb in our bodies – until the explosion devastates our normality with the reminder that we are all skating on thin ice. Death is a powerful teacher. What do we want in this life? How kind have we been? Which ways can we cultivate our relationships? When we are dying, it is unlikely that we will be thinking about our bank balances or our possessions. Much more likely, we will be remembering our friendships and those we love.
I was with my dad when he died. That was a privilege – and it was also a messy process getting to that place. Arguments with hospital doctors. Family disputes. Was he actually at the end of his life? Understandable denial of inevitable processes. Then there we were. Myself and my dad in a hospital room. About 2am in the morning. The beginning of the end. Straining breaths. Increasing gaps between the breaths. I held his hand; telling him that I loved him – and giving him permission to go. Then he was gone. Everything highly enhanced: emotions, perspectives, energies.
When my mum died, I was so grateful that we had seen each other about ten hours before her death. I am so grateful that she died in her own bed in her own home. One of my lasting memories is feeding her chocolate buttons on that final visit (she liked chocolate). When my brother died, I was angry, confused and remorseful.
Each death is the same – a body ceasing to be alive – and each death is different: various causes of death, a vastly wide range of emotional responses, fallouts that can have unexpected gifts as well as immense challenges. Many deaths are honouring the ‘natural’ lineage (a child buries their parents). Some deaths not: a cruel rending of our assumptions and our expectations.
There is a view by some that death is a failure. That the person dying did not try hard enough to ‘fight’ a particular disease (or exercise enough or eat the right diet). That positive attitudes and modern medicines can save us from death. This is a highly flawed perspective whose delusions can create much discomfort. This is the western death machine sanitising and disguising mortality, essentially pretending that death does not exist. Maybe more appropriate to the reality are these words from teacher Ram Dass: “Death is not an error; it is not a failure. It is taking off a tight shoe.”
Before the mid-20th century, death and dying were very much part of life in the West. An everyday routine – that we die. Dead bodies were frequently part of public experiences. Despite ground breaking works of art such as ‘Six Feet Under’, our death-denying culture strives to exclude the living from death and professionalises the process of dying. Some might dismiss talking about death as being morbid; rather, it is about being realistic. A turning towards rather than deluded denials.
A few certainties of life are that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west; that the earth is a spinning globe; that we will die. Anything can happen at any time. As a Buddhist teaching states: “I am of the nature to grow old. I am of the nature to be sick. I am of the nature to die. All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them. I am the owner of my actions. Whatever I do, my actions are the ground on which I stand.” Deeply contemplating and aspiring to embed these truths is a profound practice.
Being practical ahead of time can ease a few of the challenges: making wills, setting up powers of attorney, making farewell gathering plans, paying for funeral arrangements. Moving from the administrative to the experiential: if possible, be with a person who is in the process of dying. To be pragmatic: as we get older, this means fewer weddings and more funerals. So it is important to remember this teaching from the Buddhist texts: “Compose your quarrels while you can.”
Because once someone is dead, then they are dead: the quarrels cannot be composed, the broken friendships cannot be mended, the grievances cannot be resolved. In cultures such as certain Native American communities, a suggestion is that both the person who is dying and the person who is with them say: “I forgive you; please forgive me; I love you; goodbye.”
An undeniable fact: we are going to die. Why are many scared about something that is so certain? Perhaps partly because it might be possible that this process of dying could be difficult. Another reason might be what Kevin Toolis wrote in My Father’s Wake: “Our weakness with death in the West stems from our very denial…Better to know life’s end than live in fear and be engulfed without warning…To be human is to be mortal, and to be mortal is to love, live and die amidst the lives of everyone around you…if you never know death then you never know life.”
When someone is dying, particular roles can emerge, such as the fixer (ready with a solution); the judge (“you should have eaten more kale”); the saviour (“listen to me; I have the answer”); the comparer (“your situation isn’t as bad/good/hard as X”). When someone is dying, do not say: “Rather than talking about death, let’s talk about something happy.” Nor: “Are you sure that you are sick?” Nor: “Don’t be so negative as you are making me sad.” Nor: “Have you tried meditation?” Nor: “There is this excellent book on cancer and mindfulness that I have just read.” Nor: “Do you have any holiday plans?” Perhaps a tender allowing of this reality, perhaps an embodying of compassion, perhaps holding hands, perhaps maintaining as much connection as possible through seeing and listening. Listening (even to silence) is one of the greatest gifts.
Sallie Tisdale stated in Advice For Future Corpses: “The time comes when the dying person doesn’t want to chat about the news or the kids or your job…If a dying person wants to hold a stuffed rabbit, find a stuffed rabbit…People who are dying get confused. How can they not?” Dying is loss: appetite, the evening walk, attention span, social roles, sexual desires, bladder control. Dying definitely can be very messy and at times chaotic. Very often dying is also deeply fatiguing – both for the person dying and those around them. When someone is dead, do not say: “They are in a better place now.” Nor: “Move on.” Nor: “Crying will make you feel worse.” Nor: “Crying will make you feel better.” Nor: “The Universe/God has a plan.”
Constructive discussions for a person who is dying include: “Can you tolerate moderate pain so you can be more alert or do you prefer being pain-free and probably somewhat sleepy?” Do say: “Funerals (or whatever word you wish to use) are for everyone, from the very young to the very old.” Do say: “It is up to us – those participating in these farewell gatherings – to decide how such ceremonies happen and we can make these decisions ourselves.”
The more fully we have lived our life, perhaps the fewer fears we might have about our death and dying. Being engaged in life – rather than feeling disconnected or long-term experiences of despair – can be an antidote to the understandable fears around our end. In word from psychotherapist Irvin Yalom: “The more unlived your life, the greater your death anxiety.”
We can make plans. We can prepare by opening our hearts to the realities. If we have an opportunity to witness the death of a loved one, take it – and regard this exercise (being with the dying and the dead) as a practice. Recognise the privilege of being able to provide comfort in these moments and being so close to life and death. Know that practice can improve performance. Practice while we can as we do not want to start making a parachute when we are actually jumping out of the plane.
One day, these bodies that we cherish, appreciate and cultivate will be food for worms.
Life is a wonderful gift to be lived and to be loved. Death is a powerful teacher. As a good friend said to me: “Death is our great gift as everything is more intense because we’re doomed. Life is special because it ends. Death is what makes living worthwhile.”
Norman Blair
2 September 2024
The Buddhist teaching (“I am of the nature to grow old…”) is from Upajjhatthana Sutta (Anguttara Nikaya 5.57).
Nine Recommended Books About Death And Dying
Rachel Clarke Dear Life: a doctor’s story of love, loss and consolation
Joan Didion The Year of Magical Thinking
Atul Gawande Being Mortal: illness, medicine and what matters in the end
Paul Kalanithi When Breath Becomes Air: what makes life worth living in the face of death
Elizabeth McCracken An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
Nina Riggs The Bright Hour: a memoir of living and dying
Sallie Tisdale Advice For Future Corpses: a practical perspective on death and dying
Kevin Toolis My Father’s Wake: how the Irish teach us to live, love and die
Irvin Yalom and Marilyn Yalom A Matter of Death and Life: love, loss and what matters in the end
Three resources that could be helpful
https://www.hospiceuk.org/our-campaigns/dying-matters
Hospice UK’s Dying Matters campaign is working with you to create an open culture in which we’re comfortable talking about death, dying and grief.
Working in our communities to support each person to experience the end of life and death that they choose.
At a Death Cafe people, often strangers, gather to eat cake, drink tea and discuss death. Our objective is “to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives.” A Death Cafe is a group directed discussion of death with no agenda, objectives or themes.
