Death and Presence
Death and Presence
September 30, 2012
I itch and avoid writing about Darlena’s death – my fourth friend who died within a year. How can this be happening? I ask the empty room. How come death is stalking my peers?
Only last year I adjusted to receiving monthly social security checks. I remember the first time a receptionist referred to me as an “Elder.” I responded by looking behind me to spot the elder.
Many years ago, although it feels like yesterday, I remember the flat sound of my grandmother’s voice as she warned me that I, too, would live long enough to attend the funerals of everyone I ever knew and loved. I remember her wrinkled hands and swollen knuckles as she squeezed my hands saying, “At my age, funerals are the only social events I can count on.” I nodded. I thought I understood. I did not.
Yesterday a friend surprised me when she asked me kindly if I carried any left-over feelings about the death of Darlena, my friend of 63 years. I had no words.
She is dead and I am left with questions, tears, relief, and gratitude. Some of the questions that surround me include: Is anyone truly prepared to die? How do we live our lives so we do not have a regret heap that surrounds us during our dying time? How do we remain conscious of our needs – both soul and human needs as we gradually take leave of our physical body? How can we live our life so we love and let love in each day? How do we remain present in our dying time?
Cancer stalked and claimed Darlena. She survived chemotherapy. Cancer survived too, and galloped through her thin, ravaged body. She was worn out and feared getting older and sicker. Cancer was unmerciful. We both wanted her dying to be fast and merciful. It was neither.
Nobody talks about how to prepare ourselves for this final rite of passage. Few people practice surrendering. Yet each of us will be midwives for friends and family as they die. How do we prepare ourselves to be present when there is nothing to do — no life-saving remedy or magic cure, and words no longer have meaning? How to be present when you wish you could relieve the suffering and yet understand that neither the timing nor the suffering are in your control? How to honor the time dying takes and sustain your resolve to support – not control?
Darlena feared aging. She was scared when her mother grew old. She was determined to end her life if cancer further diminished her. She did not end her life. Gradually she withdrew her energy from the daily ritual of beautifying her home. Gradually she stopped rising out of bed early to beat the sun up. Gradually she slept more and spoke less. Gradually she no longer had room for music. Gradually she spoke her truth about the betrayals and abandonment she felt plagued her this lifetime. Gradually, she grieved. Gradually, she stopped eating lobster and coffee ice cream, and gave up the resolve to die at home.
Before she died, she let in the love of people who surrounded her and said how tragic and sweet to finally experience love. She thanked friends who encircled her. She smiled. We retreated about five feet from her bed and spoke softly, hoping she would continue her journey. She did. And we are here continuing our journey, grateful to Darlena who taught us each to be more present in her dying time.