Two
of my friends have died this month, so I am taking time to reflect on
death. It is inevitable—the
natural end to life, yet we encounter it with shock and surprise. I confess that I don't know the answers to our questions about death and dying and am as shocked and surprised as anybody else when someone passes. Why?
Once,
when I was in a meeting about disability services, I commented that we need to
have transition services in place for when the parent-caregiver of a disabled
adult dies. The leader dismissed
my comment by saying, “Yes, they might die.”
I
countered this dismissal with a promise.
“No! I can promise you with
one hundred percent accuracy that every, single parent-caregiver will die!”
My
remarks were ignored, almost as if I was being obscene. During my time working with state
disability services, they never set up a protocol for dealing with this
transition. It would not take much
to have a page in a file listing people to contact, resources and an action plan for when the
caregiver of a client dies. It
would serve the client to have a plan in place. It would save the state time and money to have a plan in
place, yet this didn’t happen.
What
is it that causes us to look upon death with so much denial that we cannot make
a plan and put it in a file? For
believers in many faiths, death is just a passage to eternity—a return to our
real home. Yet we want to deny
that death happens. Why?
I
think the answer lies in our own grief.
It hurts so much to be separated from someone we love. I think the grief of separation effects both the dying and the survivors.
Personally, I see death itself as a pleasant
passage to what lies ahead. Still,
I am reluctant to leave behind my loved ones. I feel compassion for their sense of loss and grief, so I
grieve with them and fight to cling to life.
Clinging
to life was a choice and challenge for me during and after my stroke and during
my cancer treatments. Living
involved some tough choices and suffering. It hasn’t been easy.
In addition to the pain of illness, I was well aware of the presence of
total love and peace just around the corner that we call death. Turning the corner would have been so
much easier than fighting to live.
I chose to live partly because of my love for my family, but mostly because of a sense that I have
unfinished business here.
During
my struggle, I started writing Lies That Bind. In a sense, it was the story about my struggle to live, and
the conflict between my desire to be with the One who loves me unconditionally
and my attachment to those in this imperfect world. This is not a sugary sweet story about life and death. It is a passionate story about
love. I came to understand death as part
of our passionate life love-story.
I
used adultery as the central theme in Lies That Bind because our society treats
the topic of death much as it treats the topic of adultery. We know adultery is a betrayal. I think under much of our grieving, we
see death as a betrayal. Our loved
one has abandoned us.
Just
as Jake and Celia in Lies That Bind needed to unravel the lies that separated
them, we need to unravel the lies that cause us undue grief when someone
dies. Death is not
abandonment. We need to remember that our loved one still loves us and we can still love them. Yes, we will miss our
loved ones. Still, they have made
a natural passage whether we think it was timely or not. We need to learn how to deal with this
transition, to have a plan in our file.
How
do we grieve? How do we find
wholeness when part of our life has been ripped away? The answers to these questions will be different for each
person, but we need to answer them.
The answers to our questions about grieving involve telling our-selves
the truth and finding truth. I sense that the answers involve living our passionate life love-story and recognizing that love is the eternal spark that each life passes on to the next generation.