Tending to Endings (twenty-seven)
Thank you for the thoughtful ideas and questions you sent in during these last couple weeks! In response to the survey, readers have asked for more about caregiving, grief, and living with Alzheimer’s. Readers said they would like to read about the importance of friendships and other support systems, and more about how various cultures approach death.
From your emails, I’ve gathered some great questions to explore:
Why do people often feel guilty when someone dies, like they could have prevented or changed someone’s death?
What cultural forces have made death a taboo topic and what resources are there to help turn that around?
How do we make friends with death rather than fearing it?
How can we let go of preconceived ideas about a loved one’s death, so we can be present for how it actually unfolds?
These and the other wise questions energize and also humble me. How will I ever learn enough to write the post on making friends with death?! What if I get it wrong? And then I remember this is about being a learner not an expert. (I’ll never title a post, Five ways to die with dignity!) But I will explore and share experiences, insights, and resources I find along the way.
It sometimes seems a low bar for a yearlong blog, paying attention to endings. But when I think of how rare it is to comfortably discuss death in our culture, even among close friends or family, it suddenly seems a year isn’t long enough.
It is an expedition that inspires me, not only because of the big questions contained within the mystery of death. But also because there are small, everyday gifts there. I believe there is life in every nook and cranny of life, including the last moments of breath. And it is life that I do not want to miss.
I hope you will continue to send your ideas and questions my way. Please also consider sending me resources that you find if you think they would be helpful for others.
Workshops
I only had a few takers on the various online workshops I suggested. I think maybe the timing isn’t right for that. We have a plethora of online courses and events to choose from these days! With summer in full swing, many of us are longing for less screen time and more outdoor time.
I also know that not everyone is comfortable with online videoconferencing. Just for your information, the platform I use for meetings is Zoom which is easy to learn, and I have privacy settings selected so that participant information is not recorded or saved. I will check back in later in the year to see if there is more interest.
More Voices
In the meantime, I do want to include more voices in the blog. I’ll continue to share books and online resources, and I also plan to do more phone interviews with people who work in the field of hospice care or grief counseling or ministry. Since Covid-19 is currently on the upswing in Boise, my more experiential research is likely to remain on hold for awhile.
I also plan to include more stories from people who do not work in the field. The thing I hear over and over from friends who have done hospice work is that every death is unique. This again reminds me of birth stories and how paying attention to each others stories not only give us more information, but also offers ways to connect during one of the most profound experiences of life.
One way I hope to gather some of these diverse experiences will be to pose a question and a call for stories every now and again, starting this week.
Call for Stories
Questions #1: What was your first experience learning about death?
For me it was my Aunt Gen when I was four or five years old. I loved my aunt who was a large woman with white hair and glasses with rhinestones that glistened. She came to my nursery school concert one afternoon where I played the the triangle and it made me feel important that she was there. I eventually chose my first pair of glasses after hers, choosing a light blue pair with sparkly stones in the corner though mom tried to talk me into tortoise shell frames.
One evening I heard my parents talking about something serious in the kitchen. When I entered the room, they told me that Aunt Gen was very sick in the hospital. She had cancer. I asked to see her and my mom told me kids weren’t allowed but that maybe they could make a special exception. Maybe I could visit her from the hallway. This part of my memory doesn’t make much sense to me, and I may be remembering it wrong. I was very young after all. But soon after, I had a dream that I got to wave to my aunt Gen who was standing at the end of a long corridor.
In real life, I did not get to see Aunt Gen again. She died soon after that kitchen conversation, and I felt utterly betrayed. My response was an epic tantrum full of anger and endless tears that became part of family lore. It was a story my mom would use to describe my personality, Laura feels things deeply. It was recalled each time I would have to leave a friend I’d made camping and would sob all the way home.
I would love to hear your stories about your first remembered experience with death. Send them however is easiest for you: email laura@laurastavoe.com; post in the blog comments section or even to the blog link on my Facebook page; send a voice file from your phone if you don’t want to write it down. Seriously, whatever is easiest! Feel free to include a photo if you have one.
Your memory can be a few sentences or a full page. I am just looking for a variety of experiences to reflect on and possible share in a future column. I will respond to you individually, and I will ask before using your words in a post.
This Independence Day, I wish for you a sense of connection and unity and purpose as we reflect on and celebrate the ideals of our country. Thank you for being here! Have a wonderful holiday weekend.
This holiday, I wish for you a sense of connection and unity and purpose as we reflect on and celebrate the ideals of our country. Thank you for being here! Have a wonderful holiday weekend.
Laura
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