A Conversation with Death
“Oh, death. Won’t you spare me over ’til another year?”- Traditional American Folk Song
I’ve been a bit existential as of late and considering my mortality, and the mortality of my friends and family. Maybe it is from listening to the brilliant podcast, The Lucky Ones, by Dale McGowan. Maybe it’s the daily updates on deaths of note I get from my good friend, Mitch Alday. Long before the days of Mobituaries from Mo Rocca there were Omitchuaries on my Facebook timeline.
Maybe it’s the multiple car crash I was surrounded by on Interstate 26 in South Carolina last month that I somehow squeaked through. I watched cars slamming into each other, and into the concrete barricade in the median, with an old Chevrolet Cavalier narrowly avoiding me as I swerved around a car.
Maybe it’s the fact I left the news on the other day and my young son saw the pandemic statistics that showed well over 100,000 have died since March in the United States. I try to watch the news in small amounts and not leave it on our television but he caught it when I walked away.
“Dad, I don’t see something.” My son had a confused look on his face as he stared at the television.
“What’s that, buddy?”
“Sadness. Why aren’t people very sad over so many dead? It’s like a scoreboard of death and no one is sad over it.”
“My friends are getting older so I guess I must be too. Without their loving kindness oh I don’t know what I’d do”- Greg Brown, Spring Wind
I’m in my 40s now and most of my closest friends are at least ten to fifteen years older than me. I’m watching many go through different stages of life, from sending kids off to college, to major surgeries, to retirement, to planning end of life care. I’m also losing some of those friends to the great beyond.
In 2016 I lost my closest friend at work, Jack Baker, to a stroke. I was 37 and he was 70. Jack came out as homosexual just a year before that and found amazing support from the young folks we worked with. I saw a genuinely happy human being. One morning he told me he had found happiness, real happiness, with a partner for the first time in decades. Two weeks later he had a stroke. Five days later he was dead. I am thankful for our friendship but I am even more thankful he experienced that love and acceptance and happiness he was denied his entire life before he left us.
Ed Brayton was an activist and an author and a part time mentor to me when I was working as a volunteer in Ghana and after I returned home. Ed passed away recently as he chose to enter hospice and end his fight with the major health issues he was dealing with. His end should have been filled with peace and dignity but, even though he went out on his own terms, it wasn’t. No one should have to stress over their last days and their wish for a painless, peaceful end should be honored. I believe when it comes to the end of someone’s life we should allow folks to die with dignity. In most states we treat our pets better than our people when it comes to easing their suffering. It’s time for us to put measures in place protecting rights for the terminally ill.
In the time in Ghana I lost one of my absolute best friends to suicide. He was dealing with health issues too.
I think through so many wonderful people I have come to know in the last twenty years and how many I’ve lost. I do feel sadness at losing them but a gratitude that I was able to share time with them and learn from them. I carry many gifts with me from our friendships and that’s what I focus on when I miss them.
And I miss some of them every damn day.
“It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it’s called Life.”- Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent
Death is a taboo subject. It is shrouded in fear and mystery, some superstitions in certain cultures, and something most people are reluctant to discuss. It means we must admit that we are fragile and our time with others is finite. It’s why we delay end of life decisions. We delude ourselves daily into thinking we are somehow protected from it but the reaper sits quietly in the shadows waiting for us to make a mistake and slip, quite literally sometimes. That’s what makes the conversations around it so difficult. It’s the fear of knowing any moment could be our last and we certainly don’t want to think about losing our loved ones.
I have lived an incredibly full life in my 40 years and I honestly have no fear of death itself. I don’t want to suffer but the end doesn’t scare me. My biggest fear when it comes to my own demise is my wife and son dealing with this sometimes awful world without me. I tell them multiple times most days how much I love them.
I don’t do that often enough with other friends and family. So if you fall into those categories know I love and appreciate who you are to me very much. If we haven’t spoken in a while reach out. I’ll try to as well. We don’t like to think about it but we all know we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow.
Maybe all of this is a reminder of that to me and to you, my dear readers. Take the time today. Call your mama and your daddy if they’re still around. Give your significant other and your children a hug if you can, squeeze them tight, and tell them you love them. Keep doing it. Every day.
And damn it y’all, just try and be good to each other and appreciate this tenuous existence we have that has been made even more so in a pandemic. I know I’m going to try.
So no, this wasn’t a conversation *with* death but a conversation that included the subject many of us never want to discuss. It seems that our coping mechanisms push this subject to the periphery. I certainly understand that. But with life there will always be death.
Still, while I have no fear of the end, I do hope to be spared to live another year. You know, Death, if you’re listening.
