Dealing with Death

Last November my two brothers and I celebrated the fact that we had officially outlived our parents.  Then one of my brothers had a massive cerebral hemorrhage Sunday, February 19 and died on Tuesday, February 21.  He had been proclaimed brain dead that Sunday and was placed on life support to give his children the opportunity to say their “goodbyes”.  Once my nephew arrived Monday night from D.C., he passed on his own.If you live long enough, you’ll have to deal with death.  The more people you surround yourself with, the more deaths you will have to deal with.  The most difficult ones for me are the youthful deaths.  When a child dies, when a college student dies, when a twenty-something or thirty-something dies…these are the hardest ones for me to deal with. I mourn the possibilities lost.  I empathize with the pain their loved ones are feeling.  It can be overwhelming.

Deaths in the forties and fifties are hard too, because of the many responsibilities left behind as the sandwich generation–taking care of both older children and parents.  A lot of heavy lifting happens in the forties and fifties and passing during this time seems so problematic.  The forties and fifties are the peak career years, peak confidence years, and are prime time in productivity.

I have a different take on how I view the passing of people in their sixties and seventies, like my brother who would have turned 60 in March.  For my brother and others who die at this age, I hope each has accomplished their major goals in life, that they were fulfilled and happy in their relationships, that they had left a legacy and a path for others to follow, and that they were prepared to go, having their estate plans in order.

I truly celebrate, without much sorrow, the long lives of those who pass after 80.  They have lived a long life.  They have experience the good, the bad, and the ugly this world has to offer.  They have hopefully figured out how to make themselves happy and are satisfied with their contributions to the world.  They know they are mortal.  Some, like my grandmother, was ready to leave every day.  I had a great-grandmother who died at 96 after breaking her hip and was in pain.  She wrote me a letter to say “goodbye”.  She passed the day before the letter reached me.  For me, these are home goings to be celebrated.

I grieve the death of my brother.  It’s the sentimental memories and how quickly the years have passed.  It’s the years lost when our relationship deteriorated for a time.  It’s the fact that his wife has lost her partner, his adult children and my own adult kids have loss their cheerleader, and the grandchildren their playmate.   I’ve cried a lot this week.  I spent all day Monday in my pajamas, in silent reflection and in tears on the couch in the family room  with the television on so as not to scare my husband.  I suffered a bit of depression, but officially came out of it on Friday.  There is pain but there is also hope. The hope that we will see each other again on the other side.  I hold the belief that he has joined that cloud of witnesses along with many other family and friends.  I’ll talk to him, like I continue to talk to my parents.

I don’t fear death.  I believe that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.  But I do fear dying.  There are specific ways I do not want to die.  I don’t want to die in an airplane, car crash, or fire.  I don’t want to die at the violent hands of another.  I would choose a natural death if given the choice.

Although I don’t really want to die any time soon, I am ready to die.  Having parents who died early, makes you question your own longevity.  And now, with my brother’s death, I question it even more.  But it also makes you obsessive about preparation.  So, my relationships are in order.  I’m good with God.  My estate planning is in order (I have to add that I don’t want to be cremated).  I’ve accomplished my major goals in life and I’ve seen the parts of the world that have interested me most, having traveled extensively.  I still have to visit Japan and Brazil.

Death is a part of life, perhaps the most difficult part.  It is the only time we see in the Gospels that, “Jesus wept”.  There is a time to mourn and for me, now is that time, again.