by Richard L. Weaver II, Ph.D.
This is an
uncomfortable topic simply because it is seldom discussed, and, too,
because it affects people in different ways at different times during
their lives. You may think you deal with it the same way each time it
affects your life, but that is unlikely to be true. Every response is
different depending on their relationship to you. There are so many
variables involved: how close the person was to you, your own health,
happiness, and security, and how many other tragedies or traumas you are
having to deal with at the time. That isn’t the end either. How did
the person die? What are the circumstances surrounding the event?
Where is the funeral (and viewing) to be held? Who will be (should be?)
invited? And many more questions, too.
I did not see my
father die; however, I was asked out of class at the University of
Michigan and called to identify his dead body. Now, I admit I was not
close to my father, so this was not as traumatic for me as it could have
been — and, honestly, it took me little time at all to get over his
death.
When my mother
died she was in California, and I was in Ohio, so there was a great
physical distance between us. Although we had had regular weekly calls
to keep in touch, even the number of those calls had diminished in her
last several years. She was over 90-years-old, and had chosen to die by
not eating. Although I had been close to her throughout my life, I had
grown away from her (somewhat) because of the many years of physical
distance; thus, her death was, in a sense, a reward for a life well
lived and success in what she wanted.
My wife’s mother
died, and it was a major, significant occurrence, but we knew she was
ready to accept it. Her physical disabilities were great (and getting
worse), and she, like my mother, had lived a terrific, fulfilled life.
There is seldom a “right” time to die, but it is true that some times
are better than others.
There is a strange irony in dealing with death. It is explained at Healthy Place: America’s Mental Health Channel
in an essay, “Helping yourself and others deal with death.” The essay
says: “Bereavement is a powerful, life-changing experience that most
people find overwhelming the first time. Although grief is a natural
process of human life, most of us are not inherently able to manage it
alone. At the same time, others are often unable to provide aid or
insight because of discomfort with the situation and the desire to avoid
making things worse.” So, it’s hard to deal with it alone, but others
can’t help for fear of making it worse.
The older I get,
the more fragile I see how life is. That is, I have noticed our whole
world is fragile when you consider how many factors have to be exactly
right (distance from the sun, proper atmosphere, available water supply,
etc.) for life on earth to be sustained. What occurred in Japan in
March, 2011, by the earthquake and resulting tsunami, forces us to
acknowledge this realization once again. Look how many people died in
the blink of an eyelash — and these lives could not be saved.
There is little I
can do to prevent these horrendous occurrences and, in the same way,
there is little I can do to prevent the death of those around me. All I
can do — and it is a small thing — is protect my own life, and to the
extent I am capable — protect the lives of those closest to me. To stay
in good health myself is an important factor in this.
Here, then, is
what I have learned about dealing with death. First, I have found that
more is learned about dealing with death through experience than through
preparation. Just because you have lived a happy, healthy life, does
not mean you are prepared to deal with death. The best way to recover
from the death of a person close to you is just to take your time.
Persevere. Your willingness to continue on will help you get through it
(time heals — but it doesn’t always heal completely!) — in addition, of
course, to the support and understanding of those around you.
Second, there is
no “correct” time for grieving or for healing. It is different for
different people, and it is different under different circumstances.
There is no “proper” amount of time. There will be times of stress and
difficulty as one encounters birthdays, anniversaries, and other
ceremonial occasions. But, as the essay at the Mental Health Channel
website (referred to above) says: “The key to handling grief is in what
work is done over time. It takes time and work to decide what to do and
where to go with the new and changed life that is left behind.” The
more that one can return to working the more help they will get for
working through the grief.
Third,
I have discovered that my memory tends to raise up the good and
diminish the bad. That is, I have found that the memories I have of
those close to me who have died, are good memories and need to be
remembered and appreciated. At the Mental Health Channel website, it
says, “In learning to let go and live a new and changed life memories
tend to come back more clearly. Growth and healing comes in learning to
enjoy memories.”
Fourth, and
finally, the best way to deal with death is to share your experiences
with others — especially those who are accepting, empathic, and
patient. Most of the funerals I have attended are actually
celebrations. That is, it is a chance for the people attending — many
of whom who have not seen each other in a long time — to enjoy the
camaraderie and share the time together in an exuberant, enthusiastic
manner. Sure, there is a certain sadness in the event, but that grief
should not destroy or undermine the chance to engage, support, and take
pleasure in others. Funerals may have their maudlin moments, but they
do not need to consist entirely of overemotional, tearful, and
sentimental expressions.
Each time I hear
about the death of someone I knew (whether I knew them well or not) —
Ken Knitt, Armand King, Dan Camp, Milton Bennett, Richard Wilbourne (to
name just a few) — I am reminded of a quote from Aeschylus: “There's
nothing certain in a man's life except this: That he must lose it.”
I once heard an
apt quotation on the television show Roseanne : “If you spend all your
time worrying about dying, living isn't going to be much fun.” Norman
Cousins had a slightly different twist on a similar thought: “Death is
not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us
while we live.” Do I think about death? Seldom. Do I want to die?
No. I am indebted to the deep thinking, popular American philosopher,
Doris Day (he says with tongue firmly planted in cheek!), who said, “The
really frightening thing about middle age is the knowledge that you'll
grow out of it.” But most of all, I love the quotation attributed to R.
Geis, “I wouldn't mind dying,” he says, “it's the business of having to
stay dead that scares the shit out of me.”
- - - - - - - -
A short essay, Dealing with death: How to find peace,” by Piper Cox at EzineArticles
is both helpful and insightful. The last part of her first paragraph
reads, “Death is a difficult thing to work through. It leaves you
feeling so empty and alone. But there are ways that you can find peace
after the death of a loved one.”
At LifeInsure.com, the essay there,
“Dealing with Grief; There is Life After Death,” offers seven
discussion points: 1) Shock and denial, 2) Pain and guilt, 3) anger and
bargaining, 4) depression, reflection, loneliness, 5) the upward turn,
6) reconstruction and working through, and 7) acceptance and hope.
There is some valuable information here.
- - - - - - - -
Copyright July, 2012, by And Then Some Publishing, L.L.C.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
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