Death and Dying

We need to talk! Specifically, we need to talk about death and dying.

We’re at an age when many of us are confronted by death and dying. And it’s a really uncomfortable topic for many people.

I sometimes ask my friends for suggestions for blog post topics. They tend to suggest lifestyle topics like those I usually write about. But then my friend Janet suggested I write about death and dying. She told me that many people in her life were dealing with severe illness and death, and that we don’t talk about these events enough, aren’t sufficiently prepared to deal with them. I told her I thought it was a great idea and that I would do some research.

My father, from whom I was largely estranged, passed away in March. I had seen him only twice in the last decade, when he was already quite ill. My emotions about his death were confusing. I mourned, but primarily because I felt cheated out of the relationship we never had. Mostly I felt relief.

My husband’s father passed away two years ago, also after a long illness. I was deeply sad and grieved the loss of the man who had been more of a father to me than my own. Both of these deaths were expected and I felt like I was prepared.

But then the completely unexpected happened at the end of May. My husband’s mother, Diana, the beloved matriarch, the glue that held together our far-flung family, suddenly fell ill, and after a devastating diagnosis died just two days later. We were in shock. We are still in shock. Thankfully all of her children and a number of other family members were able to rush to her side, hold her hand, stroke her hair, kiss her cheek, and surround her with all our love as she slipped away.

Her death tore a giant hole in the close-knit fabric of our family. Many difficult decisions had to be made in a short period of time. Relatives and friends had to be called, bank accounts closed, appointments canceled, various agencies notified, her testament read. Those of you who have experienced this know how painful this process is.

As so often happens in life, we thought we were prepared, knew what it would be like to lose your only remaining parent, your mother, the matriarch, the glue. We were familiar with the steps that need to be taken when a loved one passes away. But there is no way to prepare for the emotional impact. We don’t know how to process the loss of the person who loved us unconditionally from the day we were born, always had our back, always put our wellbeing ahead of her won. I know that this is not everyone’s experience, but it certainly is ours.

I started this blog post at the airport while waiting to board a flight to Germany, my heart heavy with the recent loss. I finished it ten days later, at a different airport, while waiting to board my flight back to the US. I planned this trip to visit my mother back in March, after my father died. She will be 92 this fall, and while she is still pretty healthy and able to live in her own home, we both know that could change any time. My MIL’s death made this trip even more urgent, so we made the most of it. We took short walks, looked at family photos, ate good food, had lots of laughs, visited with family and played lots and lots of Rummikub, her favorite game. It was a really good visit. I plan to go back for Christmas.

But during that visit, my focus for this post shifted from preparing for the worst to making the most of the time we have left. I don’t really have any advice for navigating the inevitable. But I do know this: At this point in their life, our elderly parents don’t want “stuff”, they want time. With us. Time spent in meaningful conversations and experiences, reminiscing about the past, sharing a meal, looking through photo albums, holding hands, saying “I love you” and “Thank you”. That’s all. But I think they would say it is everything.