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Let’s face it. Everyone of us will, if we haven’t already, come face to face with this question. The Dying Man’s Journal addressed this issue in response to a question from one of his readers. With the caveat that every situation is a bit different, Bill encourages us to visit, to call, to spend time with our dying friend. This is not an easy thing to do. When one of us is about to be struck down, we—the robustly living—are forced to confront our own mortality. As if that weren’t enough, we must also deal with the old injustice refrain:
- Why this person, not another person?
- Why this kid, not an old man?
- Why my friend/brother/sister/child, not some random person on the street?
There are no answers to these questions. Life and death are not fair or logical; life and death simply exist; death is the only guarantee of life. So perhaps it is best for us to simply acknowledge the facts and close the door on the unanswerable questions. The reality is that the dying need us. And we need them.
Image via MS Clipart
“I am still me.” says The Dying Man. “I am still the same person I was prior to my diagnosis. I still like the same things, I AM STILL ME. The only difference is I have some unsettling, disturbing thoughts running around in my head. Think about the things in your life that can upset you, I mean really set you off. Now compare that to hearing that you are dying. How do they compare in importance or significance? How important or significant does your issue seem or compare?”
That last sentence sums up why we need the dying. We need to assimilate and remember that lesson. So, we screw up our nerve and pick up the phone or press the doorbell. Bill warns us to expect the unexpected. Perhaps our ill friend has had a difficult morning, perhaps meds are wreaking havoc, or a string of wonderful guests have drained our friend of energy. A dying person may not have the energy to graciously turn us away. Or the exhausted person may not even want to turn us away but may simply not have the energy to carry on a conversation. Don’t be afraid to ask if you should come back another time and don’t feel rebuffed if you are turned away. But if your presence is welcome and the conversation becomes one-sided, consider this your opportunity to talk to your heart’s content.
Bill advises, Talk “the same way we have always talked; remember I am still the same person I have always been. Don’t be afraid of mentioning anything about dying. Guess what? I already know that, so hearing it from you isn’t going to upset me. Feel free to ask any questions you may have but then let’s drop the subject not dwelling on it.”
The most important thing, I think, is to make the time to visit with your dying friend. Don’t let your own fear of death isolate the one who is walking down that path all alone. And don’t be robbed of the remaining precious time to share your friendship and love.
How about you? Have you spent time with a dying friend or relative? If so, what have you learned? What surprised you the most?
Rangewriter 
Another one of your profound posts, Linda. Being the relatively young thing I am and having only ever lost one of my two grandfathers (while I was away from home for a year and pretty surprisingly at that), I have never had to consider my behaviour in the face of death too much. This is bound to change though when I find myself in this kind of situation, and I appreciate your warm-hearted and thoughtful advice.
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Thanks, Sandra. But I must deflect all praise to Bill, of The Dying Man’s Journal, for he is the man who is going through this. It is his wisdom that I use as a spring board to try to help the rest of us negotiate a difficult path.
Like you, it was a long time before the grim reaper caught up to me. But during the past 20 years, I’ve had my share of lost colleagues, friends, and relatives. I still never know how to act.
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With complete transparency, Linda, I tell you I’ve learned that I am not ready to face the dying friend, neighbor, loved one, etc. Once I had kids, death has taken a sorrowful hold on me. By that I mean, I don’t want to think about my kids dying, nor do I want to think about me dying and leaving my kids behind.
My friend’s mother died two years ago. It was awful. (Always is, eh?) My Dad died. A friend died. I mean, death is part of life, but lately I’ve chosen to tune it out.
Dear Bill… I was a frequent reader of yours. My apologies, as it has been awhile since I visited. You are still the same person – I understand. Still, by looking at you I am made painfully aware of the mortality of myself and my loved ones, does that make sense? It hurts too much.
Linda, this was lovely. The message is important, and I am glad you wrote this post.
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Lenore, what a thoughtful and honest response to a post which I’m sure was difficult for you to read. I can understand how you feel. Really. At one time in my life I was quite sure I would never attend a funeral, simply because I so violently disagreed with what most funerals focus on. I have, however, had to let go of that childish notion. I’ve realized that they are not about the deceased as much as they are about the family members who need to know how important and loved their person was. And now I have even been present when death tiptoed into the room. It was sad, utterly sad, but not as frightening as I thought it would be. I have come to terms with it…at least with someone else’s. My own? We’ll see. I’m not so sure that I could handle that graciously. But as Bill proves, we aren’t given a choice, are we?
As for the notion of losing your children, too awful for words. It does, unfortunately happen. But it is the most unnatural and devastating thing that can happen. If I were a praying person, I’d be praying that you never encounter this. Instead, I will it from the bottom of my heart. There is too much wonderful living for you to do with your dear boys right now. That is, as it should be, your focus. Be blessed.
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You are so kind, Linda. Thank you.
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oh my. My sister-in-law died in 2007 at age 56 after a cruel battle with cancer. Though she and my brother had been together for over 20 years and he had asked her often, they were not married. Then, near the end, she asked him to marry her. They got married Saturday at noon. She died Monday morning. Oh my it was all hard.
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Oh, I can imagine. How is your brother doing now?
My friend was engaged when her fiancé was diagnosed with cancer. He fought for about 18 months. They never did get married. Not sure why, but she nursed him and was with him every step of the way. He did provide for her. It was awful. He was also about 56 or 57 and one of those people who is larger than life. My ex husband died in his sleep at 60. He, too, was larger than life. Over 300 people showed up for his memorial service. These events have been good lessons for me to refocus. What Bill says about the little annoyances that pile up…they don’t mean squat in the larger picture of our short time here on earth.
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Many years ago, I took the training as a Hospice Companion. The most significant lesson is: be a listener. The dying person may have something critical on their mind and no one willing to listen with patience.
If we don’t know if we can help with an issue…we just need to ask!
One of the reasons being with the dying is such an awesome experience is that there is no interest or time for frivolous natter. Conversations are what I call pure soul. No clutter.
The other Companions and I used to chat about how we would go to be with a dying person thinking we were giving. We always ended being on the receiving end. Without fail. Just from listening and being there for them.
Amazing.
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I have a couple of friends who work in hospice. Bless them. I don’t think I could ever do that. I have heard exactly what you said, listen, let the person speak, share thoughts, memories, fears, and try to work out answers to things that may be bothering them…often very terrestial things that pertain to family.
My hospice friends also echo your experience of receiving more than you give. It is amazing.
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Hi, another fascinating piece.
My father died suddenly (although he’d been ill) a month after we got married (30 years ago). I never got the chance to say ‘goodbye’ (what would I have said? I don’t know).
My mother had a serious stroke from which she died, five days later, without regaining consciousness, although when I got to the hospital as she was admitted, she was just conscious but delirious. I spent the next five days with her (most of the time), saying positive things into her ear – apparently hearing is the last sense to go. In those days I was sort of ‘into’ buddhism, and I kept repeating sayings and mantras, in the ‘belief’ (hope?) that this might aid her journey, whatever that journey might have been. I have since talked to a buddhist nun and she assured me that doing this would have helped, which in buddhist terms meant a ‘better’ next life, hopefully as a human. Of course, this must sound bizarre to Christian ears. To be honest this experience only left me numb, not hopeful, but a little part of me hopes that what I did worked. Ultimately, I don’t know what I believe. Great post though, Linda.
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You’ve not had an easy introduction to death. Very few people do, I suppose. Sudden deaths are, I am convinced, the only way to go for the one passing. But oh, for those left behind, sudden death is like losing your very own soul. Sometimes I think the purpose of long illnesses is to prepare the family for the impending loss. (If there is a purpose in anything)
“A little part of me hopes that what I did worked.” It sounds to me like you did everything within your limited power to ease your mom’s journey to where ever she went. And ultimately, I have no idea what I believe either. I’m open to learning…something that will come too late to share, but at some point, I guess we’ll all have the answers.
Thanks for taking the time to share your reactions.
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After watching families go through all kinds of different deaths–lingering, brief, and sudden–I started thinking that maybe there’s just a certain amount of hardship for the larger organism (dying person and their circle of loved ones) to go through during the adjustment. If the person dies suddenly then the main bulk of the work falls on the shoulders of those left behind. If the person dies a relatively brief death like with a lot of the cancers, then they can pull a certain amount of the load while they’re still alive to help ease the burden for those that are being left behind. And if it’s a really long dying process then most of the adjustment process is already done by the time the person dies. What’s left is mainly relief. I think this last one kind of holds true for people dying at a ripe old age, too. Most of the adjustment happens before death which may be why it’s a little easier to recover after someone old dies.
Bill is amazing. Talk about a generous soul.
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Dia, you are my go to expert and deep thinker. The person who commented just after you did asked a really pertinent question that I haven’t a clue how to address:”This is wonderful. Very well said. Perhaps you can write something about how to help a friend who will not admit they are dying– that’s one I’m having trouble with.”
Have you words of wisdome for Girl in the hat? Perhaps this even merits one of your eloquent blog topics.
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This is wonderful. Very well said. Perhaps you can write something about how to help a friend who will not admit they are dying– that’s one I’m having trouble with.
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Now that’s a toughie. I will have to consult with Bill and with my 2 hospice friends. I bet they have some good insights.
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Peter’s sister, aged 81, has been in and out of hospital for the last few months. Her body is riddled with cancer. Why wouldn’t everybody admit that she’s most likely to die very soon? She is very sensible and can see that there just isn’t much any more the doctors can do for her now.
Peter’s other sister, aged 79, resists mentioning her sister is going to die soon. I feel one cannot talk about it in her presence because it upsets her too much.
Peter and I are both 78. When someone mentions what’s going to happen in twenty or thirty years, we both say we won’t be around any more. We feel to turn seventy or eighty is already an achievement. Every other year is a bonus for us. Sure, none of us knows the exact time when we’re going to die, but die we must. It’s in the nature of things. I hope we’re not going to complain when our time comes.
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My friend Dia, from acuriouscure.com says that in her years of hospice work, she found that people who live well also die well. People who are bitter, angry, impatient, and thoughtless die difficult and lonely deaths. I believe you will be in the first category. I hope me too.
It is sad when family members are unable to accept an impending death. As Dia points out, dying is a process__one that gives people on both sides of the issue time to resolve things, to wrap things up, to say the things that we’d like to be said before we go.
I have come to believe there are two types of death: the sudden and the prolonged. The sudden is hell on loved ones but a blessing for the departing one. The prolonged is hell on everyone, but the longer, more grueling the process is for the poor departing, the easier it is for the survivors to prepare for and accept the loss. At some point, the survivors begin to hope for death over more suffering. How awful that our loved ones must suffer for us to be ready to see them gone.
I wish your sister-in-law__the departing__a pain-free transition. Your other sister-in-law, acceptance. You and your husband, the company of each other during this heart-breaking time.
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These words are very beautiful, Linda. Thank you very much for this!
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