Dying
March 22, 2005 – 8:50 amYesterday a co-worker’s husband passed away unexpectedly. He had been sick and getting better. But a blood clot got him. Now he is dead.
I’m reminded of the importance of treating every day as my last; to live each dayas though a fire were raging in my hair.
Death comes for us all. Yet we say it is unexpected or surprising. I don’t want my death to be a surprise nor unexpected. So I’ve attempted to teach myself to live my life as though I had only one year to live.
Last year I got off track from that place. I had two surgeries and broke my arm and jaw in a bicycle accident. Pain, even invited pain, has a way of getting me to rethink my priorities. Vicodan does, too.
This guy’s death jarred me, if only because of my proximity to his wife. I called my wife and told her how much I love her. This morning I thought about all my friends and family who have supported me through hormones, surgeries and frustrations with bureaucracies and people who don’t get it.
My life is richer for them. I bow to all of you.
How would you spend your remaining days if you knew you had only one year to live? One month? An hour?
5 Responses to “Dying”
If I only had a year to livee….I would hope that I would want to keep up on daily things, you know cut wood, carry water….but I think I would rather spend my time writing and being with friends. Not doing any grand adventures, but just spending time in their presence and reveling in that. And I would spend a lot of time looking for the “right” home for my cat…
By Sherrill on Mar 22, 2005
Having been at this very place a number of times in the past 10 years, I have yet to come to a consistent conclusion.
The loss of my youngest daughter in 1995 caused me to begin telling people what I thought of them, good or bad, immediately. I stopped holding back my feelings.I realized exactly how precious each moment was, and just how quickly a person’s life can be irrevocably changed, with or without their permission.
In 1999, when both my Father and my Spouse died, I became defensive, numb, and angry. It did, however, cause me to know that I never had to settle for less than exactly what I wanted and expected in a relationship, which is why the very next one only lasted 6 months.
In the Summer of 2002, when my remaining daughter called to say she had just found her middle child dead in bed, I felt that I had nothing else to lose. The day of his funeral is when I made two decisions; one was to change my major in school to Psychology, with emphasis on death and dying issues, and the second was to begin transition. When I told one of my friends of my decision about my major, he shook his head and said that it was probably the only way possible to redeem such grief, by helping others go through it. He’s a very wise man.
Maybe the one thing that did stand the test of this time is the fact that I know I need to keep “current” on ALL my relationships, because there is NO promise for tomorrow.
By Eugene on Mar 22, 2005
Sherrill and Eugene,
Thanks for posting.
As for keeping up for daily things…I just don’t know. I’m tempted to outsource all that stuff and travel, you know? But somehow that doesn’t seem very humble. And I’m concerned that my cat would suffer with me gone. He’s really a one human cat, and he picked me years ago…which is also humbling.
Eugene,
Thank you for your honesty. Death is a great clarifier. I appreciate your reminder to tend to relationships everyday. Getting out of shitty moods is very important to me. Do I want to die in this shitty mood? I try to ask myself this question any time I am in a shitty mood and then chat with people if I need to.
This is a _major_ accomplishment for me.
I was the king of shitty moods all through my twenties and early to mid thirties. Now I’m just too tired.
By Jay Sennett on Mar 22, 2005
Jay, I’m sorry for your loss — and the unexpected nature of his death.
While I don’t think about my life in terms of what or how would I live if I knew I wasn’t going to be alive very much longer, I have made significant changes in my life — largely due to the deaths that have collided with my world. In the mid to late ’90s I lost literally (next to) all of my friends to HIV/AIDS. I burried one friend after another, anguishing over how much pain these men were experiencing — physically, emotionally, socially, spiritually. It feels like I spent the great majority of those years fluctuating between grieving and caretaking, resulting in a near-constant state of exhaustion. I had no idea, though, how those experiences with death would seem to pale in comparison to Marcelle’s suicide in 2000 (not that peoples’ lives can be put on some continuum or hierarchy, of course).
Because Marcelle’s death also nearly killed Loree — and challenged my ability to stay on this plane too — those first 18+ months after Marcelle’s death were spent in a constant state of triage, putting out one fire after another, grabbing a little tighter on the rope…. {you name the metaphor} Emerging from those years, I started looking again at the books and theories I had belittled — books like Eckhart Tolle’s “The Power of Now.” While I still don’t ascribe to all of those theories, I’ve noticed that I spend a LOT more of my time living RIGHT NOW — not tomorrow, and trying not to live in the past. While I do routinely still get pulled back to the past, I feel so solidly present in the now — more present than I’ve ever felt in my life. And for me, being *present* means feeling *alive* — being very alive.
I can more fully feel the love that surrounds me, notice the richness of nature, be amazed and awed by kids (who I used to blanketedly hate), see positives in nearly everything, and be grateful in ways that I never imagined were possible.
[Jay, it's obvious we haven't connected in a while, since I had no idea you had two surgeris and broke some bones. It might be an old story for you, but if you care to fill me in, I'm interested in what's been happening in your life and the highlights (and/or details) of your journey the past couple of years.]
michael
By michael munson on Mar 22, 2005
michael,
Always a pleasure to hear from you!
The now is where it is at. History is a story I tell myself..still a good story though…
Thank you for sharing some of your experiences surrounding death and dying.
By Jay Sennett on Mar 23, 2005