FEAR OF DEATH FOREBODES A DISASTER WAITING TO HAPPEN
Yes, folks, we are now back to that time of the year when those of us in North America remember the old saying, “The only things that are certain are death and taxes.” Even now our good accountant awaits our certain gathering of data so that he may prepare and post our returns by the appointed date. But this essay will not look at that tiresome task
of tax preparation. Instead we’ll look at the certainty of death component of the above quote. If one does not accept that absolute certainty, that at some future date, one will surely die, then there develops a subtle and sure fear of death, for fear is always the result of refusing to examine, prepare for and accept what is inevitable.
Evasive tactics are pointless. It’s like saying, “If I don’t buy insurance, or make my will, or appoint my powers of attorney for legal and medical matters, death will not come to my door!” How silly, and how tragic, all at the same time! In our capacity as Hospice volunteers, over twenty-five years, we have seen every conceivable scenario regarding lack of preparation for one’s certain death. In that amazing and insightful vocabulary about end-of-life issues given us by Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, the word for it is “denial.” And some few people get stuck in it, and some never go beyond it, right up to the last breaths they take. And that is so very sad, for the person who is dying, as well as for those who must “pick up the pieces” in the aftermath of death.
Do you know that poignant moment when you finish reading a captivating book you could hardly bear to put down? When you reach the last chapter and the final page, there is a sadness that the story doesn’t go on and on, and yet, at the same time, a sense of completion that you stuck it out to see the ending. You lay the book aside, and move on to other things, but what you completed and enjoyed is forever a part of your consciousness and memory bank, if you so desire. Life is like that. I frequently say in public talks, “All we are, in the end, is our story!” The story of our lives, its ups-and-downs, its victories and its victimization and the choices we made along the way.
So why do some persons blindly insist their lives will never end? They deny death because they fear death. Somehow something’s incomplete, some relationship is not mended, meaning has not been assigned to what happened to them nor value given to whatever was accomplished by them. That’s what Dr. Ross refers to as “unfinished business!”
Now there are two forms of “unfinished business!” The older person, or the one with a hopeless prognosis for physical cure, needs to get a grip on what’s left of life, after the very necessary time for coming to terms with the event of death that awaits us all. When I entered the hospital for breast cancer surgery nineteen years ago, I made a chart for the hospital room wall that promised me: The more you love, the more you are interested in, the more you are indignant about, the more you have left when anything happens. This is a paraphrase of the wisdom of the actress Ethyl Barrymore, and those few words gave me a kind of hope that saw me through a lumpectomy and a long recovery from radiation. The Psalmist put it this way: “Teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12) No fear of death there! Just looking after ourselves, and living life as fully as circumstances [the “number of days”] allow.
Further, in one of my scrapbooks, I found the following lines from someone called, “Threescore and four in California.” It was set in contrast to the poem of a Rev. Peterson, called “Slow Me Down Lord:”
“Speed me up, Lord!
Start the pounding of my heart
And concentration of my mind.
Quicken my slow pace
With a vision of my limited earthly time.
Give me, amid the confusions of my day,
The calm of self-chosen priorities.
Break the spell of quietness;
Let not soothing music or television
Keep me from activities.
………….
Teach me the art of channeling my energy
So I get things done and still have time
For flowers and friends, pets and children,
Smiles and books.
Remind me each day that there is more to life
Than ‘sitting around.’
…………..
Speed me up, Lord,
And inspire me to spend my strength wisely,
Remembering life’s important values
That I may meet more challenges
And fulfill a greater destiny.”
Thank you, fellow Californian, for those very wise words! That’s phase one of personal “unfinished business:” looking to taking care of the details and possibilities at life’s end, just for our own “peace at the last.” Phase two is making sure we don’t leave a colossal mess for others to attend to after we have made our earthly exit.
Let me illustrate with a true story. Years ago I observed a mental health worker and her professor husband in their ninth and tenth decades--she was in the mid-eighties and he, in the early nineties. They persisted on living the gay life of entertaining they had always enjoyed, and spending their small fortune. Meanwhile, no plans were made with their four children regarding what would happen should they become disabled and need assistance with even the basics of daily life. The adult children, then middle-aged, lived in the far corners of the world, pursuing their own careers and occasionally visiting the parents. Although at one time powers of attorney had been delegated, and papers made up to that effect, when mental deterioration took over both their lives, such documents could not be located, and the younger adults were loathe to press the issues that needed to be addressed. No one was in charge or came to the rescue, so this very old and weak couple were truly “a disaster waiting to happen.” Shortly before, the elderly woman had told me, “I guess I’m afraid of death.” Obviously, she squarely hit the nail on the head!
Contrast the above fuzziness and lack of focus with how two other women I knew dealt with the certainty of their impending deaths.
One was a friend of mine for almost sixty years, in her nineties, and having been diagnosed with a slowly developing cancer. “June,” she told me, “When I waited at my husband’s bedside, while he lay unconscious and unresponsive after a heart surgery, I thought, ‘What would he want me to learn from this,’ because he had always assured me there was something to learn in every situation?” “Then it came to me,” she explained, “I am learning to be alone, and to look squarely in the face, the fact that I too will face death one day. I must get my affairs in order.” And so she did, and informed all her friends of those who would be in charge of her end-time decisions. The couple had not had children. She left this world with both dignity and grace!
My other friend was a high school teacher of mine with whom I had close ties for some fifty years. We visited her during her eighty-sixth year and she was very much the busy hostess for our few days’ visit. Months later I called her from a continent away, and she confided, “Something is happening to my thinking and I don’t like it.” Shortly thereafter I visited her again and found her refrigerator filled with spoiled food, and that her car insurance had expired, and she was still driving! Immediately I called a grandson, who moved in to take charge, hired 24/7 home-help-workers and put the car keys away permanently. However she had previously made out a list for her family, of those to be called or to be listened to in case she got into trouble or died. She slowly declined but was able to stay in her home until the last year of her life. She at least had the wisdom to know that someday she would need help, and there were people who loved her and would alert her family to her predicament. When her younger son called to inform me of her death, news I never wanted to hear, but knew was certain, that brought a needed closure!
At this point, I want to add what a thoughtful thing it is for a family member, or a friend, to inform near and especially distant friends of the death of someone held dear. When I still lived in Canada, I was deeply touched when a mere neighbor of hers answered my Christmas card to a dear elderly friend in Pasadena who had died the previous summer. The neighbor didn’t need to, but she did take on that responsibility as there was no family around. I could thus more easily come to terms with our old friend’s demise.
Fear of death has been lessened for me ever since I read these reassuring words of Nancy Byrd Turner: “Death is only an old door, set in a garden wall. On gentle hinges it gives at dusk, when the thrushes call. Along the lintel are green leaves, beyond, the light lies still. Very willing and weary feet go over that sill. There is nothing to trouble any heart, nothing to fear at all. Death is only a quiet door in an old wall.” May you and your loved ones find a similar beauty and comfort as you face death with a certain grace, a grace I have been privileged to witness to over many years. So be it!
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