End of life workshop
I spent the best part of a Sunday afternoon in the company of other women, most of whom I had never met. We were the participants in a four-session workshop on “End of Life” issues.
Now I am not planning to “go out” any time soon. But as the year creep up, that looming specter call The End is becoming more and more real. I’ve given a lot of thought to what is coming and I’ve decided it probably feels like a gigantic roller coaster that goes up and up and up and up. You know the crest of the hill is coming but, as in Space Mountain, you can tell when it will happen. So you clench your teeth and brace yourself for the drop into … what?
Just for the record, I hate roller coasters. So if you like them this analogy probably sounds 180 degrees from fear. And I’m not so sure it’s really fear. It’s just the inevitability of death. There, I said it. Death. Death Death death death death. Of my family, of my friends and of me.
Me. Not here on Earth. Now no matter what your religious or spiritual belief, whether you know there’s an afterlife or whether you think life ends with the death of the body, you are a little curious about the actual process of dying. Right? We don’t know what will happen. And we can’t control it (unless euthanasia becomes legal). It will just happen.
I have a whole lot more to say on this black subject, but heck, it’s a new year. No sense darkening the mood for too long. But I will say that I am privileged to be in the same room with these women. Their curiosity, inquiring minds and plain old courage make me proud to be a female. Our next meeting is in February. I’ll check back with you then.
You brought me to tears, Mary. And those tears are what flush out the sadness and the “why now? why him” unspeakable unfairness of death. Like the Carl Sandburg poem, I think it’s death that “creeps in on little cat paws” instead of fog. Blessings to you both/all as you witness the biggest transition of them all. And even our ADD won’t hold us back from this one. Much love.
My brother is dying and I get to tag along on one last journey, asking questions that I would not dare ask anyone else. I ask my big brother these things now because when it is my turn he won’t be here to tell me what to do next. The phone connection will be dead and he will be too.
I won’t get to ask him if he was afraid (not yet) or if he was angry (no some things we can’t control) any regrets (leaving his wife, sister (me) and grand daughter so abruptly).
Did he need to right any wrongs (one, not asking his high school girlfriend to senior prom because he didn’t know how to dance, he apologized after 50 years), did he live up to his expectations (yes he became an industrial engineer with only a high school education), what unfinished business does he have (final yard sale so his wife won’t have to deal with his things alone).
Does it hurt (not yet, they have such good drugs now). Does he believe in heaven (read the Bible in 2 weeks, it’s better to believe than not) and what will he do when he gets there (will they let me grow hostas and drink beer?). What will he leave behind (personal letters and hand made jewelry came in the mail).
I can only go so far, I can only empathize so much and the tough things have to be done alone. I asked him to visit me in my dreams sometime and to come and hold my hand when it’s my turn – like he did on my first day of school.