To Love What is Mortal...

I have long avoided writing a blog about death, even though, to me, death is a beautiful, universal part of life; and not one that I fear.

I have been privileged in my lifetime to watch people approach death in a dignified, courageous manner, like my grandmother, Phyllis Roskin, who died in a hospice being treated only for her pain and not for the cancer that was taking her from us. I’ve been touched by those moments in hospitals, hospices, and temples when loved ones have come together to celebrate rich and happy lives that have ended, and to become closer in those meaningful moments. I have been honored to be invited to sit with a family struck by the terrible tragedy of the loss of a daughter the same age as my own and to experience their incredible resilience. And I have found I am most connected with my religious faith when I have seen how it responds in the face of death.

Yet, I’ve always thought, how do I write about death without upsetting people who don’t see it the same way that I do, or who view it as something morbid that shouldn’t be discussed? How do I write about death without offending someone whose views on the subject are different than mine?  And who am I to write about this topic, with my limited experience on the subject?

Today I want to set aside those gremlins that have kept me from writing about a topic that has always been very important to me and to share with you some of my thoughts about death and some coaching exercises around how you can come to articulate your own.  I also want to “publicly” re-commit to volunteering to work with people in a hospice setting who are close to the end of their lives, or with their families, an idea that I’ve carried with me for over a decade since my grandmother’s death.

Playwright Thornton Wilder wrote, “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”  It is with love that I offer this post about the end of life.

Thank you for receiving it,

~ Sophie

COACHING EXERCISES

• Which are the moments that have informed your thoughts about death? What are the readings or teachings that illustrate how you feel about what happens to us after we leave this life? Perhaps you can write a journal entry, or create a mind map, about those things that have informed your thinking about death.
• Consider whether it would help you – or help someone else – for you to talk to one another about death and dying.  I’m told that it is a gift to be able to talk to those who are dying about how they feel about where they are going, and, in some cases, to give them “permission” to let go of this life. I’m told there is some comfort in knowing how they felt about their dying after they are gone. Even though it really doesn’t matter because after I die people will do whatever they need to do to feel better, it is reassuring to me to know that there are others who know how I feel about my own death, whenever it comes.
• For the most part, I want to live my life having said what I needed to say to people. However, there are some things I want to say to my children that they aren’t ready to hear yet, or that aren’t appropriate or relevant to them now. Even though I have no plans to die soon, I have written them letters to open in the event of an emergency and when they reach a certain age. Even though it won’t matter any more to me then, I feel better now, here on the earth, knowing that I have left a few letters behind for my children. The part about who they might marry can wait; the part about how much I love them, I hope they hear from me every day.  Is there any one in your life for whom you would like to write a letter that they can read at a later time, whether you’re here to hand it to them at that time or not?
• Finally, I find it comfortable to gather things I want to be able to say to someone who has had a recent death in their family, or who are on their way out of this life. I’ve been told by a few people that if you are vacillating about whether or not to reach out to someone in either of these situations, that when you do go ahead and reach out, it is very much appreciated. I keep a supply of blank sympathy cards in my basket here at home so that I can do that. Here are some things that I feel inspired by currently:

A character in a novel I read last year said to another grieving character, “May you have a strong heart and the love of family in these sad times.” I have had more opportunities than I would like to have used that phrase since reading it.

Jeff’s Uncle said good bye to his grandson’s father this week with, “a safe and wondrous journey to wherever we all go," which I think is really lovely.

A rabbi I was talking to about what he says to the many families he helps through these moments said that he’d learned that mostly, what people appreciate is the opportunity to talk about the person they’ve lost.  So I ask, “What was she like?” or, when I knew her, I share a story about her.

The way that I think about death is soothing to me. I hope that some of these thoughts will comfort you as well…

When we are dead, and people weep for us and grieve, let it be because we touched their lives with beauty and simplicity. Let it not be said that life was good to us, but rather, that we were good to life.

~ Rabbi Jacob P. Rudin

To live in this world, you must be able to do three things:

To love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

And, when the time comes to let

it go,

to let it go.

~ Poet Mary Oliver