How do you all deal with death?
November 27, 2013 2:44 PM Subscribe
How do you all deal with the fact that you and everyone you love will die some day?
Having gone through a very rough patch this year, I figured out that one thing I fear a lot is everyone I love dying one after one (and leaving me all alone.) I used to be afraid of dying as a kid, but now it's really the death of the people around me that scares me.
Last year, my cat got really sick and died within six weeks of being diagnosed. I know that she was going to die (and we had to have her put down in the end), which made it easier in some ways because I could schedule to be with her more during her last few weeks, but also sooo much harder because I knew our time together was really limited to only a few more weeks. I still miss her now, but I'm also doing okay and think of the good times we shared.
Now I know that our time with everyone is limited and that we should probably all treat people the way we'd want to treat them if we knew we saw them for the last time, but that's not really all that practical or at least rarely works out that way, does it? You get into arguments etc.
My grandmother is 91 and I feel like I'm slowly watching her die, although she still is rather fit for her age. Part of this might stem from my depression, but even as a kid when she was still in her seventies (like my father is now - don't even get me started) or eighties, I always cried when I just thought of her being gone some day.
I realize that one part of my anxiety over this comes from a fear of being left alone some day, which I did not cope too well with this year abroad. But of course I also know that I'd really miss them.
Reading Harry Potter has helped me, specifically Dumbledore saying "Do not pity the dead, pity the living", but now I don't want to be left behind by my loved ones...
How do you all deal with this? Have you gotten used to it after you lost your loved ones one by one?
Having gone through a very rough patch this year, I figured out that one thing I fear a lot is everyone I love dying one after one (and leaving me all alone.) I used to be afraid of dying as a kid, but now it's really the death of the people around me that scares me.
Last year, my cat got really sick and died within six weeks of being diagnosed. I know that she was going to die (and we had to have her put down in the end), which made it easier in some ways because I could schedule to be with her more during her last few weeks, but also sooo much harder because I knew our time together was really limited to only a few more weeks. I still miss her now, but I'm also doing okay and think of the good times we shared.
Now I know that our time with everyone is limited and that we should probably all treat people the way we'd want to treat them if we knew we saw them for the last time, but that's not really all that practical or at least rarely works out that way, does it? You get into arguments etc.
My grandmother is 91 and I feel like I'm slowly watching her die, although she still is rather fit for her age. Part of this might stem from my depression, but even as a kid when she was still in her seventies (like my father is now - don't even get me started) or eighties, I always cried when I just thought of her being gone some day.
I realize that one part of my anxiety over this comes from a fear of being left alone some day, which I did not cope too well with this year abroad. But of course I also know that I'd really miss them.
Reading Harry Potter has helped me, specifically Dumbledore saying "Do not pity the dead, pity the living", but now I don't want to be left behind by my loved ones...
How do you all deal with this? Have you gotten used to it after you lost your loved ones one by one?
Best answer: Therapy really helped me with this and some of the other grief and necessary losses that come with living a full life. You grieve for the people you've lost, and you never really stop, but you do go on with your life.
I wish I could walk you through all of the steps that we went through to identify fears and realities and come to terms with the daily living with grief and liveliness, but it's something you probably need to work through with a therapist of your own.
posted by ldthomps at 2:56 PM on November 27, 2013
I wish I could walk you through all of the steps that we went through to identify fears and realities and come to terms with the daily living with grief and liveliness, but it's something you probably need to work through with a therapist of your own.
posted by ldthomps at 2:56 PM on November 27, 2013
Best answer: and leaving me all alone
I deal with this by being really, really good with myself and who I am. Realizing that I'm the only person that I have to deal with day in and day out for literally the rest of my life has made me really think about my self-esteem and about being kind to myself.
I think if we have good relationships with ourselves, a lot of these anxieties and concerns become less pressing. So, I would encourage you to do things that make you you. Find out what you enjoy and do it. Be good with yourself and be kind to yourself.
Another thing I try to do is I aim to produce more than I consume. I like my hobbies to be production-based (knitting, cooking, playing piano, volunteering) rather than consumption-based (watching TV, noodling about online). If I leave stuff behind that is meaningful and helps people, I think I've made good use of my time here, which makes me less concerned about the inevitability of death.
Meditation will also probably come up in this thread here. I personally don't meditate, but I find that doing yoga is a really good thing for centering me and making me feel good about this sack of meat that is my body.
posted by k8lin at 2:58 PM on November 27, 2013 [36 favorites]
I deal with this by being really, really good with myself and who I am. Realizing that I'm the only person that I have to deal with day in and day out for literally the rest of my life has made me really think about my self-esteem and about being kind to myself.
I think if we have good relationships with ourselves, a lot of these anxieties and concerns become less pressing. So, I would encourage you to do things that make you you. Find out what you enjoy and do it. Be good with yourself and be kind to yourself.
Another thing I try to do is I aim to produce more than I consume. I like my hobbies to be production-based (knitting, cooking, playing piano, volunteering) rather than consumption-based (watching TV, noodling about online). If I leave stuff behind that is meaningful and helps people, I think I've made good use of my time here, which makes me less concerned about the inevitability of death.
Meditation will also probably come up in this thread here. I personally don't meditate, but I find that doing yoga is a really good thing for centering me and making me feel good about this sack of meat that is my body.
posted by k8lin at 2:58 PM on November 27, 2013 [36 favorites]
Best answer: You're pretty young, and this stark realization of your mortality and the mortality of your loved ones is normal for this age. I experienced something of the reverse: first fearing for the mortality of others, then my own. I fixated on it. I was anxious and depressed and thought about it every single night before bed.
For me, rationalization didn't help. What helped was treating my underlying depression and anxiety. Once I was in a better place, I could see that I was squandering what little time I had to live my best life with my loved ones while they were still here. That bittersweetness wasn't making me enjoy or appreciate them any more; it was distracting me. And life is too short to live it distracted.
posted by PhoBWanKenobi at 2:58 PM on November 27, 2013 [5 favorites]
For me, rationalization didn't help. What helped was treating my underlying depression and anxiety. Once I was in a better place, I could see that I was squandering what little time I had to live my best life with my loved ones while they were still here. That bittersweetness wasn't making me enjoy or appreciate them any more; it was distracting me. And life is too short to live it distracted.
posted by PhoBWanKenobi at 2:58 PM on November 27, 2013 [5 favorites]
My faith assures me we will be together again in heaven one day. The fact that this life is only temporary - that I am truly just passing through on my way to eternity with God - provides me a perspective and peace that has sustained me through divorce and the death of both beloved relatives and friends.
posted by summerstorm at 3:05 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
posted by summerstorm at 3:05 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
Response by poster: Forgot to add: I'm agnostic. When my cat died, I hoped that she would end up in heaven, but I'm not really sure I believe in heaven. Mostly I was just glad she didn't have to suffer anymore, and then continued missing her.
Not that there's anything wrong with being comforted by religion. It just doesn't work for me.
posted by LoonyLovegood at 3:06 PM on November 27, 2013 [1 favorite]
Not that there's anything wrong with being comforted by religion. It just doesn't work for me.
posted by LoonyLovegood at 3:06 PM on November 27, 2013 [1 favorite]
Best answer: Your current set of loved ones are not the only loved ones you'll ever have. There are many people in this world that you can make family of. It's possible but extremely unlikely that you'll be the last one left, especially if you make family of people of all ages. I think this is part of the reason that people get so excited by children - there's comfort to be found in the knowledge that there is someone more out there to love and who will (likely) love you back. There's another tie to another person.
For me, part of it is thinking that I'm incredibly lucky to have my loved ones in my life. Sitting and really thinking about how I'm not entitled to any good thing in this human existence has really made me stop and smell the roses. I don't constantly think "this person might not be here tomorrow", but facing up to and accepting human mortality really helps me think about how this might actually be the last time I might see someone, as you mention. Thinking about that isn't enough, in and of itself. I know I need to do something to ensure that if this is the last time I see that person, they know I cared.
Also, accepting that there's a limit to these things, there's only so much I can realistically and practically do to change the Universe helps. If I've done my best for and to someone, then that's as much as I can do. I can't prevent someone from dying. I can guide and lead and nag and cajole and encourage someone to like a healthy lifestyle, but they could still get knocked down by a bus tomorrow. I can't fight against the inevitable.
My dog is a major positive influence in my life. I know that she's going to die someday, and just thinking about that as I write this sentence is making me tear up a little. There are two ways to use that emotional energy, though - I can wallow in it and make it all about me, or I can make sure I take her on an extra long walk and give her a treat and thank the Universe that I've had the time with her that I've had.
A lot of it is acceptance. When you actually properly accept, in the Buddhist sense, that life is ephemeral, it's very freeing. All of us are only here for a short time, and knowing that makes me treasure my loved ones. It makes it much easier to not get into arguments, or call them quickly to apologise and such. A lot of the time, it's just not worth it. And if it is worth it, then I have to stop and consider whether or not this person is still a loved one. It's OK to say goodbye before death.
I've read several books by an author called Peter McWilliams and I recommend them at every available opportunity. I haven't read How To Survive the Loss Of A Love, but I've passed it on to people who have said that it helped. One thing that I picked out from another one of his books was the idea of getting yourself ready for death. Prepare your will, tell your loved ones that you love them, go to Disneyland (or fulfil whatever unfulfilled desires you have) and then just carry on living. You've already done everything you need to do to prepare yourself and others for your own death, so you're free to go on living.
Finally, consider your own mortality. You're likely going to leave someone behind, who will grieve for you after you die. Grief is healthy, suffering isn't. Do you want them to suffer your loss? It's likely that you don't, and I think it's also likely that the loved ones who died before you wouldn't want you to suffer either.
posted by Solomon at 3:11 PM on November 27, 2013 [6 favorites]
For me, part of it is thinking that I'm incredibly lucky to have my loved ones in my life. Sitting and really thinking about how I'm not entitled to any good thing in this human existence has really made me stop and smell the roses. I don't constantly think "this person might not be here tomorrow", but facing up to and accepting human mortality really helps me think about how this might actually be the last time I might see someone, as you mention. Thinking about that isn't enough, in and of itself. I know I need to do something to ensure that if this is the last time I see that person, they know I cared.
Also, accepting that there's a limit to these things, there's only so much I can realistically and practically do to change the Universe helps. If I've done my best for and to someone, then that's as much as I can do. I can't prevent someone from dying. I can guide and lead and nag and cajole and encourage someone to like a healthy lifestyle, but they could still get knocked down by a bus tomorrow. I can't fight against the inevitable.
My dog is a major positive influence in my life. I know that she's going to die someday, and just thinking about that as I write this sentence is making me tear up a little. There are two ways to use that emotional energy, though - I can wallow in it and make it all about me, or I can make sure I take her on an extra long walk and give her a treat and thank the Universe that I've had the time with her that I've had.
A lot of it is acceptance. When you actually properly accept, in the Buddhist sense, that life is ephemeral, it's very freeing. All of us are only here for a short time, and knowing that makes me treasure my loved ones. It makes it much easier to not get into arguments, or call them quickly to apologise and such. A lot of the time, it's just not worth it. And if it is worth it, then I have to stop and consider whether or not this person is still a loved one. It's OK to say goodbye before death.
I've read several books by an author called Peter McWilliams and I recommend them at every available opportunity. I haven't read How To Survive the Loss Of A Love, but I've passed it on to people who have said that it helped. One thing that I picked out from another one of his books was the idea of getting yourself ready for death. Prepare your will, tell your loved ones that you love them, go to Disneyland (or fulfil whatever unfulfilled desires you have) and then just carry on living. You've already done everything you need to do to prepare yourself and others for your own death, so you're free to go on living.
Finally, consider your own mortality. You're likely going to leave someone behind, who will grieve for you after you die. Grief is healthy, suffering isn't. Do you want them to suffer your loss? It's likely that you don't, and I think it's also likely that the loved ones who died before you wouldn't want you to suffer either.
posted by Solomon at 3:11 PM on November 27, 2013 [6 favorites]
Best answer: I'm glad it was your cat, not your kid, who sickened and was put down. Had to read that a couple of times before assuming the typo.
My unfaith assures me in exactly the opposite way of what summerstorm describes, and I love her/him for that simple and unblinking description.
I didn't exist for billions of years, and I won't exist in any way I can imagine after my body stops functioning. We are built of dust and becoming dust, but the more I think about the former the more at peace I am with the latter.
FWIW my sister literally makes her living communicating with the dead. Thanksgiving is a hoot.
posted by Kakkerlak at 3:15 PM on November 27, 2013 [7 favorites]
My unfaith assures me in exactly the opposite way of what summerstorm describes, and I love her/him for that simple and unblinking description.
I didn't exist for billions of years, and I won't exist in any way I can imagine after my body stops functioning. We are built of dust and becoming dust, but the more I think about the former the more at peace I am with the latter.
FWIW my sister literally makes her living communicating with the dead. Thanksgiving is a hoot.
posted by Kakkerlak at 3:15 PM on November 27, 2013 [7 favorites]
Response by poster: Oh my God, of course it was my CAT who died, not my KID! I don't even know how that typo happened. So sorry!
posted by LoonyLovegood at 3:16 PM on November 27, 2013 [6 favorites]
posted by LoonyLovegood at 3:16 PM on November 27, 2013 [6 favorites]
Mod note: I'm going to fix that so it doesn't give people the wrong idea - didn't want to pry.
posted by jessamyn (staff) at 3:17 PM on November 27, 2013 [9 favorites]
posted by jessamyn (staff) at 3:17 PM on November 27, 2013 [9 favorites]
Best answer: I resolved it by basically putting those thoughts in a basket and hiding them away. It sometimes comes back on dark lonely nights, when I get that sinking, despairing feeling.
Basically, you deal with it by living your life.
I also have this completely horse-shit theory about quantum mechanics, parallel universes and the impossibility of being conscious in a universe in which you don't exist which can sometimes be a comfort, but I'm not really under any illusions that it's anything but my own personal nerd afterlife mythology.
posted by empath at 3:29 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
Basically, you deal with it by living your life.
I also have this completely horse-shit theory about quantum mechanics, parallel universes and the impossibility of being conscious in a universe in which you don't exist which can sometimes be a comfort, but I'm not really under any illusions that it's anything but my own personal nerd afterlife mythology.
posted by empath at 3:29 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
Best answer: The thing about death is that it makes life important. If everyone in your life were to live forever, you'd forget to say "I love you" because you'd have forever to do it.
When we really get it that everything ends, we stop procrastinating about everything and we never waste a minute. It makes every moment precious.
You know how you never get a paper written or your work done until a deadline is imposed? Death is that deadline. You don't know when it will come so you have to keep up to date all the time. Don't leave any words unsaid.
The Buddha said (I'm paraphrasing, but not really by all that much) that our ingrained habits cause us to grab onto good things so hard that we can't enjoy them while they're here, push away bad things so hard that we don't even notice whether they're even as bad as we thought, and space out during neutral times. The point of meditation practice is to learn to let good and bad things happen without trying to twist them into something else, without creating more pain for ourselves, and to stay awake during neutral times -- in other words, to use a meditation practice to learn to be fully alive.
What's the point of dreading death, our own or that of others, if we've never even lived? The more fully we enter into life, the more we really feel what we're feeling rather than what we're afraid of, the better and more full our lives are.
For example, I lost a very very dear friend at the beginning of October. I miss him like fuck, I really can't tell you how much I miss him. I miss him more than I missed my mother when she died, for a whole host of reasons. So when the waves of sadness well up, I feel them. I let my feelings happen and I feel what it's like to miss the hell out of Tim and wish he were here with me. But the reason that it comes in waves rather than coming in a huge monolith of despair that I can't ever climb out of is that I've been really clear for a really long time about the truth of impermanence. I make a conscious effort to live fully, and Tim did it just naturally, but together we had a very deep, very sweet friendship and the memory of his friendship holds me up now in a different way than it did when he was alive.
Tim was 70. 70 isn't young. I could have worried about losing him, and I would have been right -- but then it's always just a matter of time before that prediction comes true for everyone, right? But worrying about him dying? What a fucking waste of my time that would have been. Can you imagine how much precious time that would have eaten up? Time when I could have been celebrating my other friends and giving love to my family and my cats and myself. Time when I could have been experiencing something new, or re-experiencing something old and seeing it in a new way. There isn't a moment to lose here, so I don't waste it grabbing at good things or trying to beat bad things into submission. And I try try try to stay awake in neutral times.
I'm an atheist myself. I don't believe in an afterlife (but I always say that could just be wishful thinking) but I do believe in not wasting a minute, having no regrets, and living life to the full. I really believe that the idea of immortality/eternity/afterlife are just misunderstood metaphors for fully experiencing our life. When you're with someone you love, BE with them, fully. Time stands still and gives you so much to savor.
posted by janey47 at 3:30 PM on November 27, 2013 [30 favorites]
When we really get it that everything ends, we stop procrastinating about everything and we never waste a minute. It makes every moment precious.
You know how you never get a paper written or your work done until a deadline is imposed? Death is that deadline. You don't know when it will come so you have to keep up to date all the time. Don't leave any words unsaid.
The Buddha said (I'm paraphrasing, but not really by all that much) that our ingrained habits cause us to grab onto good things so hard that we can't enjoy them while they're here, push away bad things so hard that we don't even notice whether they're even as bad as we thought, and space out during neutral times. The point of meditation practice is to learn to let good and bad things happen without trying to twist them into something else, without creating more pain for ourselves, and to stay awake during neutral times -- in other words, to use a meditation practice to learn to be fully alive.
What's the point of dreading death, our own or that of others, if we've never even lived? The more fully we enter into life, the more we really feel what we're feeling rather than what we're afraid of, the better and more full our lives are.
For example, I lost a very very dear friend at the beginning of October. I miss him like fuck, I really can't tell you how much I miss him. I miss him more than I missed my mother when she died, for a whole host of reasons. So when the waves of sadness well up, I feel them. I let my feelings happen and I feel what it's like to miss the hell out of Tim and wish he were here with me. But the reason that it comes in waves rather than coming in a huge monolith of despair that I can't ever climb out of is that I've been really clear for a really long time about the truth of impermanence. I make a conscious effort to live fully, and Tim did it just naturally, but together we had a very deep, very sweet friendship and the memory of his friendship holds me up now in a different way than it did when he was alive.
Tim was 70. 70 isn't young. I could have worried about losing him, and I would have been right -- but then it's always just a matter of time before that prediction comes true for everyone, right? But worrying about him dying? What a fucking waste of my time that would have been. Can you imagine how much precious time that would have eaten up? Time when I could have been celebrating my other friends and giving love to my family and my cats and myself. Time when I could have been experiencing something new, or re-experiencing something old and seeing it in a new way. There isn't a moment to lose here, so I don't waste it grabbing at good things or trying to beat bad things into submission. And I try try try to stay awake in neutral times.
I'm an atheist myself. I don't believe in an afterlife (but I always say that could just be wishful thinking) but I do believe in not wasting a minute, having no regrets, and living life to the full. I really believe that the idea of immortality/eternity/afterlife are just misunderstood metaphors for fully experiencing our life. When you're with someone you love, BE with them, fully. Time stands still and gives you so much to savor.
posted by janey47 at 3:30 PM on November 27, 2013 [30 favorites]
Listening to this song always helped me.
posted by Benjy at 4:12 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
posted by Benjy at 4:12 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
I reflect that everyone else has had to cope with this; so, I can too.
posted by thelonius at 4:15 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
posted by thelonius at 4:15 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
Best answer: This is maybe a bit idiosyncratic, but I found my religious faith of only limited comfort when confronted with this (I'm too honest with myself about the fact that my beliefs might be wrong, I guess) ... but reading the Apology of Socrates, over and over (I was teaching intro philosophy), really helped me make peace with mortality and feel a deep sense of OKAYNESS about it. I am really, profoundly OKAY with death and mortality now. I mean it's still shitty but it no longer fills me with dread and existential angst.
The last 10% of it or so ("Socrates' Comments on his Sentence") is really where the meat of the stuff about death is, but you need to read the whole thing once or twice for context. There are of course many commentaries and guides online, from the introductory to the complex, to help you with it if you're not a regular reader of philosophy.
It made me sort of wish I'd listened to my freshman-year philosophy professor when she told us philosophy was an intellectual comfort and had all those extra years of being comforted by it, but I guess I had to go teach freshmen philosophy myself to learn that. :)
posted by Eyebrows McGee at 4:26 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
The last 10% of it or so ("Socrates' Comments on his Sentence") is really where the meat of the stuff about death is, but you need to read the whole thing once or twice for context. There are of course many commentaries and guides online, from the introductory to the complex, to help you with it if you're not a regular reader of philosophy.
It made me sort of wish I'd listened to my freshman-year philosophy professor when she told us philosophy was an intellectual comfort and had all those extra years of being comforted by it, but I guess I had to go teach freshmen philosophy myself to learn that. :)
posted by Eyebrows McGee at 4:26 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
Watch some Ask a Mortician videos on youtube. It won't help with the alone feeling but it makes death less awkward to talk about.
posted by donut_princess at 5:28 PM on November 27, 2013 [1 favorite]
posted by donut_princess at 5:28 PM on November 27, 2013 [1 favorite]
Best answer: There's a principle of Buddhism called anicca, which means impermanence, which is very central to the Buddhist conception of joy and suffering. Essentially it is the recognition that everything around you is in flux and is fleeting. The idea is that as you look at, say, a cat, you cultivate the recognition that right now the cat is a living breathing thing and there is a being looking out of the cat eyes, and eventually the cat will be cat bones and cat dust, then eventually little bits of the cat will become other things, like plant food or water molecules from the cat will become raindrops. (Not sure how to explain it without being a bit crass.) When you really dig into it, it is a very beautiful and tragic idea. Sometimes I go around my neighborhood and do a walking meditation and basically look at things and repeat the mantra "And I know that I will die" in my head. Like, "There is a leaf. And I know that I will die. There is a pebble on the sidewalk and I know that I will die." Or sometimes, "And I know that this thing is changing." The result is frequently that ordinary things that you pay little attention to can become very very beautiful, with the recognition that they will be gone.
posted by mermily at 5:45 PM on November 27, 2013 [6 favorites]
posted by mermily at 5:45 PM on November 27, 2013 [6 favorites]
Best answer: Personally, I write private poetry, mostly of the ubi sunt genre. It mourns the passing of earthly things, and my favorite examples are the Old English antiques, The Wanderer, in particular. The Ruin is another example. Literature of any age is packed with the topic. I just happen to love the old English pieces. Mine relates more to the futility of career than death, but death creeps in there from time to time.
From The Wanderer:
Where is the horse gone? Where the rider? Where the giver of treasure?
Where are the seats at the feast? Where are the revels in the hall?
[...]How that time has passed away,
grown dark under cover of night, as if it had never been.[
We are highly perishable and have a very short shelf life.
It's tempting to think we're the first to feel this way, and sobering to see how our ancient ancestors confronted the same desolation, and to appreciate how long, long ago it was that their words were recorded.
I get a lot of solace watching and contemplating the cosmos; its vastness. What I see is already no more, and in my lifetime, a beam of light shot out into the cosmos by a flashlight in my hand will only go 100 light years, and my own insignificant galaxy is only 1000 light years across, and floats alone in a sea of nothing, billions of years old.
It actually gets a little easier, each time someone close dies. A little less shocking. A little more resigned. I mine them for wisdom and ponder their deaths. I consider mine. Death is cleansing because it focuses us (me, anyway) on life. One chance. No heaven. No hell. This is it.
I don't fret, though. My general mantra is:
Don't fear death; just try and avoid it. If it's inevitable, make it count.
posted by FauxScot at 5:51 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
From The Wanderer:
Where is the horse gone? Where the rider? Where the giver of treasure?
Where are the seats at the feast? Where are the revels in the hall?
[...]How that time has passed away,
grown dark under cover of night, as if it had never been.[
We are highly perishable and have a very short shelf life.
It's tempting to think we're the first to feel this way, and sobering to see how our ancient ancestors confronted the same desolation, and to appreciate how long, long ago it was that their words were recorded.
I get a lot of solace watching and contemplating the cosmos; its vastness. What I see is already no more, and in my lifetime, a beam of light shot out into the cosmos by a flashlight in my hand will only go 100 light years, and my own insignificant galaxy is only 1000 light years across, and floats alone in a sea of nothing, billions of years old.
It actually gets a little easier, each time someone close dies. A little less shocking. A little more resigned. I mine them for wisdom and ponder their deaths. I consider mine. Death is cleansing because it focuses us (me, anyway) on life. One chance. No heaven. No hell. This is it.
I don't fret, though. My general mantra is:
Don't fear death; just try and avoid it. If it's inevitable, make it count.
posted by FauxScot at 5:51 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
Best answer: Hello, me.
There has been some great advice offered above,which I have taken comfort from myself. In answer to the specific question about how to cope, when my mom died I read a lot of poetry about bereavement - reflecting on how other people had come to terms with their loss allowed me to understand that this is one of the things that link us as a species. We will all experience loss - all of us - and our understanding of this makes our lives special and unique.
You don't necessarily"get over" someone's death but you do somehow manage to accommodate it. Your perception of what passes for normal life will stretch and distort to allow for this new reality.
As for comfort, all I can think is that by the time I die, most of the people I love will also have died and so I will be the same as them and won't have to miss them any more. Which sounds maudlin but is comforting to me.
posted by Martha My Dear Prudence at 6:00 PM on November 27, 2013
There has been some great advice offered above,which I have taken comfort from myself. In answer to the specific question about how to cope, when my mom died I read a lot of poetry about bereavement - reflecting on how other people had come to terms with their loss allowed me to understand that this is one of the things that link us as a species. We will all experience loss - all of us - and our understanding of this makes our lives special and unique.
You don't necessarily"get over" someone's death but you do somehow manage to accommodate it. Your perception of what passes for normal life will stretch and distort to allow for this new reality.
As for comfort, all I can think is that by the time I die, most of the people I love will also have died and so I will be the same as them and won't have to miss them any more. Which sounds maudlin but is comforting to me.
posted by Martha My Dear Prudence at 6:00 PM on November 27, 2013
Best answer: A dear friend sent me this today... just in time for you:
“Grief never ends… but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith… it is the price of love.” Author unknown
posted by summerstorm at 6:14 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
“Grief never ends… but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith… it is the price of love.” Author unknown
posted by summerstorm at 6:14 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
Best answer: Dealing with death and loss is hard.
You might find it useful to read the Earthsea trilogy by Ursula LeGuin, it's an enjoyable read, but the third book [The Farthest Shore] describes a world where death doesn't exist. Death, you come to realise, is essential.
posted by HiroProtagonist at 7:03 PM on November 27, 2013
You might find it useful to read the Earthsea trilogy by Ursula LeGuin, it's an enjoyable read, but the third book [The Farthest Shore] describes a world where death doesn't exist. Death, you come to realise, is essential.
posted by HiroProtagonist at 7:03 PM on November 27, 2013
Best answer: How do you know that the life is not a dream, and all people but characters in it? If it were, death would merely be a dissolving of the dream back into the mind of the Dreamer. That's what, to simplify, a lot of great philosophers and mystics both East and West believed and believe. There's very good reason to believe it (memail me if you want to discuss in detail) and it's what helps me -- to an extent.
The rest of it is realizing that you can't get past the fear of death entirely, but that you can use the anxiety it generates to create and do interesting things. It can motivate you.
posted by shivohum at 7:03 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
The rest of it is realizing that you can't get past the fear of death entirely, but that you can use the anxiety it generates to create and do interesting things. It can motivate you.
posted by shivohum at 7:03 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
Best answer: All relationships in life end. Romantic relationships can end with a breakup, friendships can end with a falling out or moving away or just drifting apart. Any relationship that stands the test of time will be ended by death, either your own or the other person/animal. This is something I came to realize when I lost mom (9 years ago today, actually) to cancer.
It doesn't make it easier. But it does simply demonstrate that the best you can do is live, love, and be good to others. Spend your time with those who value. Make sure they know that they're important to you. The only true healer is time. The best thing to speed up the process is to know you have no regrets for missing out with them.
posted by azpenguin at 7:17 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
It doesn't make it easier. But it does simply demonstrate that the best you can do is live, love, and be good to others. Spend your time with those who value. Make sure they know that they're important to you. The only true healer is time. The best thing to speed up the process is to know you have no regrets for missing out with them.
posted by azpenguin at 7:17 PM on November 27, 2013 [2 favorites]
Best answer: I try to remind myself that the way I think I will feel when each of these events happens is probably different than it actually will feel. My fears about how it will feel may make me more afraid than I need to be. For instance, I picture the horribleness, but not necessarily the abundant support and the rituals that will happen as well. So you can question your beliefs about how you think you will feel, because it will likely be a bit different than that.
Also, since it's inevitable, I notice that by dwelling on the sad aspect of this I am actually robbing pleasure and enjoyment from the present moment - and pleasure and enjoyment are what will make it sad. What's the point of being sad now AND being sad then? Be glad now, appreciate today, be expressive. Enjoy the hell out of everyone and everything as you have them. There will come a time to be sad, but that time isn't now. You can only ruin now by being sad for an unknown future that you can only dimly imagine - why ruin now? Let things happen in their own time.
posted by Miko at 7:31 PM on November 27, 2013 [11 favorites]
Also, since it's inevitable, I notice that by dwelling on the sad aspect of this I am actually robbing pleasure and enjoyment from the present moment - and pleasure and enjoyment are what will make it sad. What's the point of being sad now AND being sad then? Be glad now, appreciate today, be expressive. Enjoy the hell out of everyone and everything as you have them. There will come a time to be sad, but that time isn't now. You can only ruin now by being sad for an unknown future that you can only dimly imagine - why ruin now? Let things happen in their own time.
posted by Miko at 7:31 PM on November 27, 2013 [11 favorites]
Best answer: We are unusual and lucky that these days, early death is less frequent. We have vaccines to protect us from diseases that used to kill a lot of kids. My high school friend might have survived her leukemia with current treatments. Cars are safer. We have and use seat belts, helmets, safety seats, smoke alarms. I try to practice gratitude for these things.
In my late teens and early 20s, a number of friends and family members died. When my Dad died, I was stunned, and every day the realization of his death would hit me. I knew I had made progress when I realized that I had internalized the fact of his death. It was over 30 years ago and I still think of him and miss him. But it's not grief anymore, it's memory.
We can't know what will happen. Someone you love might die. You know your grandmother has limited time. The only actions you can take are to be cautious of danger and take care of yourself, and to appreciate every day you get. Spend time with your grandmother, ask her to tell you about her youth, her 1st boyfriend, what it was like during the war, How she met your grandfather, whatever. Most people love telling stories about themselves and you'll have some stories to preserve. Spend time with the people you love, and make sure they know you love them.
New friends and loves will come into your life. New challenges, new discoveries. It's up to you to pay attention and appreciate the good stuff that comes your way (Life is a banquet, and most poor bastards are starving to death.)
Having gone through a very rough patch this year, I figured out that one thing I fear a lot is everyone I love dying one after one (and leaving me all alone.) Are you feeling at all like wishing you were dead? Sometimes, thinking about death, and feeling sad, is a way to emotional intensity. If your focus on death is causing problems or really persists, therapy's a good idea.
posted by theora55 at 8:09 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
In my late teens and early 20s, a number of friends and family members died. When my Dad died, I was stunned, and every day the realization of his death would hit me. I knew I had made progress when I realized that I had internalized the fact of his death. It was over 30 years ago and I still think of him and miss him. But it's not grief anymore, it's memory.
We can't know what will happen. Someone you love might die. You know your grandmother has limited time. The only actions you can take are to be cautious of danger and take care of yourself, and to appreciate every day you get. Spend time with your grandmother, ask her to tell you about her youth, her 1st boyfriend, what it was like during the war, How she met your grandfather, whatever. Most people love telling stories about themselves and you'll have some stories to preserve. Spend time with the people you love, and make sure they know you love them.
New friends and loves will come into your life. New challenges, new discoveries. It's up to you to pay attention and appreciate the good stuff that comes your way (Life is a banquet, and most poor bastards are starving to death.)
Having gone through a very rough patch this year, I figured out that one thing I fear a lot is everyone I love dying one after one (and leaving me all alone.) Are you feeling at all like wishing you were dead? Sometimes, thinking about death, and feeling sad, is a way to emotional intensity. If your focus on death is causing problems or really persists, therapy's a good idea.
posted by theora55 at 8:09 PM on November 27, 2013 [3 favorites]
Every day, mindfulness meditation and reflection on the three marks of existence. And a day counter on my phone counting down how many days have passed and how many remain. And a fair amount of struggle, still. But keeping it near my awareness makes it less bad. It's worst when I've gone months without remembering. If I remember every day, I'm more inclined to accept the choices I make about how I'm using the limited time.
posted by ead at 11:07 PM on November 27, 2013 [1 favorite]
posted by ead at 11:07 PM on November 27, 2013 [1 favorite]
Best answer: Atheists grapple with this as well. Not an answer—but a perspective:
"Death is, in some ways, unacceptable. It’s just an astonishing fact of our being here that we die; but I think worse than that is if we live long enough, we lose everyone we love in this world."
—Sam Harris
posted by quadog at 11:49 PM on November 27, 2013
"Death is, in some ways, unacceptable. It’s just an astonishing fact of our being here that we die; but I think worse than that is if we live long enough, we lose everyone we love in this world."
—Sam Harris
posted by quadog at 11:49 PM on November 27, 2013
Best answer: Basically, yes... it is possible to get used to it. My family has good longevity, so there were always lots of old people around. I started going to funerals pretty young, and I've been to a lot.
It is highly unlikely that everyone you love will die before you. You'll make younger friends, have children, etc. My grandparents died surrounded by adoring family, even if it was a completely different set of people than they started with.
What makes me feel better? A very superficial understanding of quantum physics and a good dose of Buddhism. Physics for reals... the universe is a big magical weird place full of endless possibilities we know virtually nothing about. And also, feeling small helps, YMMV.
The Tibetan Book of Dying
posted by jrobin276 at 12:29 AM on November 28, 2013
It is highly unlikely that everyone you love will die before you. You'll make younger friends, have children, etc. My grandparents died surrounded by adoring family, even if it was a completely different set of people than they started with.
What makes me feel better? A very superficial understanding of quantum physics and a good dose of Buddhism. Physics for reals... the universe is a big magical weird place full of endless possibilities we know virtually nothing about. And also, feeling small helps, YMMV.
The Tibetan Book of Dying
posted by jrobin276 at 12:29 AM on November 28, 2013
This may sound flippant but I am totally sincere: I considered the alternative really, really deeply. And suddenly that became like really gazing into a terrifying abyss.
posted by Decani at 12:36 AM on November 28, 2013 [1 favorite]
posted by Decani at 12:36 AM on November 28, 2013 [1 favorite]
Decani has a good one... Tuck Everlasting.
Anyway, non linear time. Strangely comforting, and learning something mind blowing distracts me from my ennui. ;-)
posted by jrobin276 at 1:16 AM on November 28, 2013 [1 favorite]
Anyway, non linear time. Strangely comforting, and learning something mind blowing distracts me from my ennui. ;-)
posted by jrobin276 at 1:16 AM on November 28, 2013 [1 favorite]
Best answer: By the time I had slightly passed my mid-20s, pretty much everyone I loved was dead - parents, grandparents, best friend, favourite dog.. all of them suddenly and unexpectedly. I struggled for a long while as a result. I'm agnostic with Buddhist leanings.
I grudgingly accept that death is going to happen to everyone, at some point, and that I don't know if it'll be me to go first or someone else. My biggest concern is making sure that there are no regrets with which to contend when that happens - sadness, well, that can't be avoided.
What I do to cope is try to love the crap out of everyone in my life.
I tell people that I love them, to say thank you, often. I don't let arguments linger (and I try to argue in a healthy way - with varying levels of success because I am, after all, human). I try to make sure that there are no loose ends on a day-to-day basis.
Sometimes I let myself ponder what it will be like when this person is gone - and see what hits me first. If it's that I'll miss snuggling with them, I immediately seek them out to snuggle as a reminder that they are here NOW. If it's that I'll regret not asking them a certain question, I do that. That I won't have enough photos? Bust out the camera. That I'll feel like I didn't spend enough time with them? I make a date to hang out. I try to soak up as much of them as possible, ultimately.
Don't get me wrong - I know that none of these things will make their loss less painful, but I'll be able to grieve them without feeling as if I missed something.
The idea of being alone is scary, too, and for that I try to imagine what it will look like. Is it that I'm worried I won't be able to take care of things myself? I work on getting those skills or asking someone how they do it (so I can make a checklist, even). If it's the idea of being lonely, I remind myself to focus on building my circle of friends and my sense of community.
My dog is dying right now - we have weeks-to-months left with her, by all estimations. I am following all of my own advice. I have taken photos of her feet (because I will miss them!) and I have given her more treats than any dog should ever eat in a day. I have tried not to get mad at her for breaking the dog rules (and, when I do, I remind myself that she isn't going to be here much longer - which softens my 'anger'). I have told her how much I love her and I have spent huge amounts of time rubbing her belly. It will not make her death easier, but I will feel as if I have experienced and loved her as much as possible. I won't have regrets.
If I may offer some advice, it would be this: don't distance or pull away from people out of fear of losing them. I did that for a long time - letting only a few people in - and it is very, very difficult to come back from that. As I near 40, I can see quite clearly how many friendships I missed out on, how many people I stepped back from, and it is so hard to learn to open yourself back up AND much harder to make friends as an adult.
posted by VioletU at 6:07 AM on November 28, 2013 [4 favorites]
I grudgingly accept that death is going to happen to everyone, at some point, and that I don't know if it'll be me to go first or someone else. My biggest concern is making sure that there are no regrets with which to contend when that happens - sadness, well, that can't be avoided.
What I do to cope is try to love the crap out of everyone in my life.
I tell people that I love them, to say thank you, often. I don't let arguments linger (and I try to argue in a healthy way - with varying levels of success because I am, after all, human). I try to make sure that there are no loose ends on a day-to-day basis.
Sometimes I let myself ponder what it will be like when this person is gone - and see what hits me first. If it's that I'll miss snuggling with them, I immediately seek them out to snuggle as a reminder that they are here NOW. If it's that I'll regret not asking them a certain question, I do that. That I won't have enough photos? Bust out the camera. That I'll feel like I didn't spend enough time with them? I make a date to hang out. I try to soak up as much of them as possible, ultimately.
Don't get me wrong - I know that none of these things will make their loss less painful, but I'll be able to grieve them without feeling as if I missed something.
The idea of being alone is scary, too, and for that I try to imagine what it will look like. Is it that I'm worried I won't be able to take care of things myself? I work on getting those skills or asking someone how they do it (so I can make a checklist, even). If it's the idea of being lonely, I remind myself to focus on building my circle of friends and my sense of community.
My dog is dying right now - we have weeks-to-months left with her, by all estimations. I am following all of my own advice. I have taken photos of her feet (because I will miss them!) and I have given her more treats than any dog should ever eat in a day. I have tried not to get mad at her for breaking the dog rules (and, when I do, I remind myself that she isn't going to be here much longer - which softens my 'anger'). I have told her how much I love her and I have spent huge amounts of time rubbing her belly. It will not make her death easier, but I will feel as if I have experienced and loved her as much as possible. I won't have regrets.
If I may offer some advice, it would be this: don't distance or pull away from people out of fear of losing them. I did that for a long time - letting only a few people in - and it is very, very difficult to come back from that. As I near 40, I can see quite clearly how many friendships I missed out on, how many people I stepped back from, and it is so hard to learn to open yourself back up AND much harder to make friends as an adult.
posted by VioletU at 6:07 AM on November 28, 2013 [4 favorites]
Best answer: I'm going to weigh in, even though lots of people have said lovely things.
When I was eight or nine, I went to this fair. I had the most fun ever, running around being a kid. In bed that night, I started to cry. I became really aware of my own mortality, and the mortality of my parents. I became really aware of 'the moment' and that the moment was fleeting, and the happiness I had felt that day, would never really come back again. That one day I'd grow up and have to worry about grown up things-- like if anyone could ever like me, and ugh, taxes, how boring-- and that everyone I loved, would be gone. Happy days at the fair with my family couldn't last forever, one day, everyone would be gone.
Yeah, I was a deep eight year old. What can I say?
And then when I was sixteen, it happened -- my father, who was a pretty awesome person, died. He was sick, and it was gradual (within a year), but it was devastating. And difficult to deal with.
And you know what? It was okay. I mean, of course it was terrible, but we got through it, day by day. We were okay. And within a year, things looked a little brighter. And over ten years later, even though the wound never truly goes away, I cry a little less, I don't think of him as much, and I no longer wish for him back. It was what it was, and my life went the way it did partly because of what happened. And you know what? Despite my problems, it's a good life; and I don't want what could have been. I'm just happy for the time we had together; those are the moments I cherish.
Very recently, a really really close friend died-- someone that was like a brother to me. He was pretty young. His death is something I'm mourning even now, over a month later, and I flit between feeling okay, and being absolutely devastated and missing him.
But I'm okay. I'll be okay.
I think the key thing to remember is that the human spirit is resilient, that time really does heal all wounds. I think that the thought of the death of people you love appears insurmountable as a concept, but it seldom is in reality. I think people have an idea that when someone dies, the world will stop, but the thing is, it doesn't. The world keeps going, the sun keeps shining, and after a bit, you keep going too.
People are generally much stronger than they realize, even super sensitive people like us, and believe me when I say, you can get through losses such as death.
I think the other thing to realize, is that you will never truly be 'alone' -- I think that when you're young, the thought of your nuclear family being gone-- especially because your parents are so old! and your grandparents are so old! It feels kinda imminent, and it's a very worrying thought.
But it's not as imminent as you think. It never is. And the other thing is that there's always hope. there are always others, there's always love and friends and people to see you through. No, I mean, no one can fill the void of my father, or my friend, or my grandparents, or my brothers or mother. But there are other people to meet, other people I can extend love to, new friends, new boyfriends... people worth loving, people worth connecting with, people who will be there when the others are gone. And that is worth looking forward to. I think it's important to remember that you'll never truly be left alone; also because as long as you're receptive to it, then love never really goes away.
posted by Dimes at 8:06 PM on November 28, 2013 [5 favorites]
When I was eight or nine, I went to this fair. I had the most fun ever, running around being a kid. In bed that night, I started to cry. I became really aware of my own mortality, and the mortality of my parents. I became really aware of 'the moment' and that the moment was fleeting, and the happiness I had felt that day, would never really come back again. That one day I'd grow up and have to worry about grown up things-- like if anyone could ever like me, and ugh, taxes, how boring-- and that everyone I loved, would be gone. Happy days at the fair with my family couldn't last forever, one day, everyone would be gone.
Yeah, I was a deep eight year old. What can I say?
And then when I was sixteen, it happened -- my father, who was a pretty awesome person, died. He was sick, and it was gradual (within a year), but it was devastating. And difficult to deal with.
And you know what? It was okay. I mean, of course it was terrible, but we got through it, day by day. We were okay. And within a year, things looked a little brighter. And over ten years later, even though the wound never truly goes away, I cry a little less, I don't think of him as much, and I no longer wish for him back. It was what it was, and my life went the way it did partly because of what happened. And you know what? Despite my problems, it's a good life; and I don't want what could have been. I'm just happy for the time we had together; those are the moments I cherish.
Very recently, a really really close friend died-- someone that was like a brother to me. He was pretty young. His death is something I'm mourning even now, over a month later, and I flit between feeling okay, and being absolutely devastated and missing him.
But I'm okay. I'll be okay.
I think the key thing to remember is that the human spirit is resilient, that time really does heal all wounds. I think that the thought of the death of people you love appears insurmountable as a concept, but it seldom is in reality. I think people have an idea that when someone dies, the world will stop, but the thing is, it doesn't. The world keeps going, the sun keeps shining, and after a bit, you keep going too.
People are generally much stronger than they realize, even super sensitive people like us, and believe me when I say, you can get through losses such as death.
I think the other thing to realize, is that you will never truly be 'alone' -- I think that when you're young, the thought of your nuclear family being gone-- especially because your parents are so old! and your grandparents are so old! It feels kinda imminent, and it's a very worrying thought.
But it's not as imminent as you think. It never is. And the other thing is that there's always hope. there are always others, there's always love and friends and people to see you through. No, I mean, no one can fill the void of my father, or my friend, or my grandparents, or my brothers or mother. But there are other people to meet, other people I can extend love to, new friends, new boyfriends... people worth loving, people worth connecting with, people who will be there when the others are gone. And that is worth looking forward to. I think it's important to remember that you'll never truly be left alone; also because as long as you're receptive to it, then love never really goes away.
posted by Dimes at 8:06 PM on November 28, 2013 [5 favorites]
Best answer: (Because, this doesn't have anything to do with Judeo-Christian theories of the afterlife, it works for me and I find it comforting. I hope it helps.)
I tell myself this little story about raindrops that fall in a river.
The drops of water that have been there for awhile tell the new raindrops about all the experiences that they've had in the river. The cool places they've seen and some of the ugly dirty polluted places they've traveled thru, the waterfalls they've gone over, the rocks and boulders they've rushed by, the different forms of plants and animals and algae and microbes they've traveled with. The new rain drops wish they could have experienced some of the things that the old drops have. But they are told they can't. The river only moves downstream, not upstream. And you only get to "live" for awhile. Everyone "dies" sooner or later. So, one by one, eventually each drop is evaporated up into the clouds.
But what the drops in the river are unable to comprehend is that when the wind blows, they travel far and the drops are reborn. Sometimes landing upstream, sometimes downstream. Sometimes in a different body of water altogether.
Somehow in my mind this is all muddled up with string theory and multi-verses and reincarnation and with my wacky idea that thru reincarnation we aren't restricted to only being reborn into the future of our version of reality, but that we may be able to be reborn into the past or into a more or less different reality altogether at any point in "time".
And that because our universe is trillions of years old and will continue for trillions of years more, how weird it seems that we are currently experiencing just this moment now. It feels inexplicably random, that of all the moments that have occurred and that will occur, the moment that is happening right now, just so happens to be one of the extremely small number of moments that we are alive in. What are the odds of that? The only way I can wrap my head around it all is to believe that our consciences have always existed in some form and will continue to do so into the "future".
It helps me to feel that we are eternal and so are all of those we travel thru life with. It helps me believe that those we love most we may be able to see again and those that we could have loved had we ever met, we have met somewhere at some time and will meet again.
posted by marsha56 at 8:08 AM on November 29, 2013
I tell myself this little story about raindrops that fall in a river.
The drops of water that have been there for awhile tell the new raindrops about all the experiences that they've had in the river. The cool places they've seen and some of the ugly dirty polluted places they've traveled thru, the waterfalls they've gone over, the rocks and boulders they've rushed by, the different forms of plants and animals and algae and microbes they've traveled with. The new rain drops wish they could have experienced some of the things that the old drops have. But they are told they can't. The river only moves downstream, not upstream. And you only get to "live" for awhile. Everyone "dies" sooner or later. So, one by one, eventually each drop is evaporated up into the clouds.
But what the drops in the river are unable to comprehend is that when the wind blows, they travel far and the drops are reborn. Sometimes landing upstream, sometimes downstream. Sometimes in a different body of water altogether.
Somehow in my mind this is all muddled up with string theory and multi-verses and reincarnation and with my wacky idea that thru reincarnation we aren't restricted to only being reborn into the future of our version of reality, but that we may be able to be reborn into the past or into a more or less different reality altogether at any point in "time".
And that because our universe is trillions of years old and will continue for trillions of years more, how weird it seems that we are currently experiencing just this moment now. It feels inexplicably random, that of all the moments that have occurred and that will occur, the moment that is happening right now, just so happens to be one of the extremely small number of moments that we are alive in. What are the odds of that? The only way I can wrap my head around it all is to believe that our consciences have always existed in some form and will continue to do so into the "future".
It helps me to feel that we are eternal and so are all of those we travel thru life with. It helps me believe that those we love most we may be able to see again and those that we could have loved had we ever met, we have met somewhere at some time and will meet again.
posted by marsha56 at 8:08 AM on November 29, 2013
She called me one day and for the first time since the first word I heard her speak all those years before I did not recognize her voice, she didn't know it but she had this tumor in her throat. This doc told her it's just some thing she's got, no biggie, that doctor a total moron. Not that it would have saved her but we'd have known.
A week later maybe I get a call from her sister, in Mineral Wells, she tells me what's happening, I'm gonna jump in the pickup, head up and grab Brenda then haul ass to Arkansas. Kathy was dead before I could even pack a bag. I had her mother hold a phone to her ear in the hospital, I'm telling her I love you, I love you, you're the best, I love you Kath, she was gone in two hours. We hadn't been good to be married but she'd been my first love and I still loved her then and I still do.
I was maybe 42 or whatever, I'd come to know over the years how to live regards this stuff, that you live to such a way that you never leave anything unsaid with those you love, and then you're set. I'd come to where I even sortof scorned people who ran to be with people, to be able to be with them, to tell them goodbye. I'm a fool, I'm an arrogant fucking fool, I just didn't know. I found out. I'd have give anything to have been able to tell her. I still would.
Tell people. Tell them. Don't miss it. Love them. Tell them.
posted by dancestoblue at 7:15 PM on December 2, 2013 [2 favorites]
A week later maybe I get a call from her sister, in Mineral Wells, she tells me what's happening, I'm gonna jump in the pickup, head up and grab Brenda then haul ass to Arkansas. Kathy was dead before I could even pack a bag. I had her mother hold a phone to her ear in the hospital, I'm telling her I love you, I love you, you're the best, I love you Kath, she was gone in two hours. We hadn't been good to be married but she'd been my first love and I still loved her then and I still do.
I was maybe 42 or whatever, I'd come to know over the years how to live regards this stuff, that you live to such a way that you never leave anything unsaid with those you love, and then you're set. I'd come to where I even sortof scorned people who ran to be with people, to be able to be with them, to tell them goodbye. I'm a fool, I'm an arrogant fucking fool, I just didn't know. I found out. I'd have give anything to have been able to tell her. I still would.
Tell people. Tell them. Don't miss it. Love them. Tell them.
posted by dancestoblue at 7:15 PM on December 2, 2013 [2 favorites]
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It didn't take too long to realize that there's nothing I can do about it, and therefore dwelling on the matter not only made me come unglued, it was a complete waste of my very limited time. Knowing this, I decided to stare into the abyss no more, and in due course, the howling fantods subsided.
I haven't really been freaked out about dying since. Whenever I find myself thinking too much about mortality, I simply back away from the subject. With some distance, I can even have discussions about death (such as this one) without a sense of panic.
In other words: "Doc, I freak out when I think about death!" "Then don't do that."
posted by kindall at 2:55 PM on November 27, 2013 [4 favorites]