Every Day I Remember Death
and it makes my life worth living
You’ve probably heard about those monks who sleep in their coffins. Feels a bit vampirish, eh? Morbid maybe? Crazy, at least. Certainly we Americans are much too busy for anything as consuming as, well, DEATH. We have people to meet, concerts to attend, politicians to hate. No time for anything that is that much of a downer. Dying is such an unpopular topic we run miles not to have to look it in the eye. We seem especially avoidant when one of our own is ill or facing a devastating diagnosis. Nope. Not going to scare them (or myself) with any death talk. That must be bad luck. It’s definitely uncomfortable, so sidestep it. For now.
I tried several times to talk with my parents about what they wanted in the last years of their lives. It did not go well. Every time I visited them in Florida, they put on a song and dance that screamed “Don’t-You-Dare-Talk-To-Us-About-Death-Or-Illness-Can’t-You-See-We-Are-Fine-No!-Excellent!-We-Are-Excellent!-It’s-Much-Too-Early-To-Have-This-Talk!!!” Although I could see how hard they were trying to show me that they were healthy and independent, it was heartbreaking to see that they were not healthy. Or independent. And we were NOT going to talk about it. Ever.
It would have been such a gift to my siblings and me if we could have known, honestly, what each of our parents wanted. What they valued. What they feared. We could have planned. They might have been more comfortable. They might have been less afraid. And so might we.
They are gone now, and I think about my own future. What will my kids need to feel as though all is well? Wouldn’t now be a good time to think It through, and make a wish list for myself?
To do that, I have to reject the cultural norm that tells us talking about death — even thinking about death — should be avoided at all costs. That seems like a superstition to me. “If we don’t talk about it, we won’t have to deal with it” approach that hides reality. I’ve never been one to put my fingers in my ears and hum a tune rather than hear the truth. And the truth is that I am going to die. (Someday.) And if I do a little planning, and a little thinking, and a little talking, it might be a good death. With nothing unsaid, and little to fear. And loaded with love. (I know, anything can happen. Car accident, hard diagnosis, nuclear war. But I’ve been around enough deaths to know it can also be caring. Sweet. Healing. All things considered, I like my odds.)
Buddhism tells me there are four heavenly messengers:
· Old age
· Illness
· Death
· A path out of suffering
When my Buddhist teacher suggested a “Heavenly Messengers” group where we might take a close look at death, I was all in. It was an invitation to try out a gentle “turning toward” death, with an eye to becoming less death-phobic, and more life-affirming.
And it is life-affirming. But so much more.
In this group, we talk about our experiences with death. Our thoughts about the afterlife. Our definitions of a “good death.” How we can prepare ourselves and our families for what is inevitable. What the laws are in our state. (Can they scatter my ashes in a freshwater lake, or not?) How we have been blessed by a death. How we have been harmed by a death. Where we are, personally, with death and where we would like to be.
One morning a month we sit with death. And Death sits with us. We accompany each other down some dark paths, we share transformative experiences, and we make some sparkling plans. It is not exactly sleeping in a casket, but it has given me a comfort and a way forward that seems kind, honest, and loving. It has given me companions on the journey. And gratitude for each day I am here.
Every morning, I read the “Five Subjects for Frequent Reflection.” This practice grounds me in reality. It makes today my new opportunity.
Each morning I remember that I am temporary. Every day I turn toward death. We smile at each other from a distance.
If we are not exactly friends, we are no longer strangers.
Resources: Here are some books that help take the charge out of facing death — your own and others’:
The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, Sogyal Rinpoche
The Conversation: A Revolutionary Plan for End-of-Life Care, by Angelo E. Volandes
Making Friends with Death, by Judith L. Leif
The Grace in Dying, by Kathleen Dowling Singh (Her entire series of “Grace” books is lovely.)
Do you know of other books that have helped you? Please share them in the comments.
