It’s Sunday evening. I’ve had a full day. I participated in a discussion about burial, funeral, customs and traditions across cultures, and the future of the funeral industry. What’s so cool about this discussion is that I did not start it. Naturally, I had a lot to say and I got to hear some perspectives from each of the participants over a casual lunch, with our group of young kids at the table, listening.
I imagine that children were also nearby way, way back in history. There was no need for a “death positive” conversation back then because death was not something to be feared. Grieved? Yes. Sad? Of course. Lonely? For some. Death happened every day, as it does today, but old folks knew their time was coming and, for the most part, their family knew it was up to them to prepare the body and bury it after death. Ceremonies would take place to honor loved ones and then it was back to life as usual. Grief and sadness were present but not necessarily fear, because death was considered a part of life. Death was not a medical matter.
Consider that for a moment: what would your daily life look like if you were actively aware that you were going to die. You just might live your life differently, without fear over who would care for you or how you would pay for the medical procedures to prolong your life while your quality of life decays. Perhaps you’d find joy and laughter and love in the little things of daily life, such as turning leaves, children’s laughter, dogs frolicking in the grass, and blue skies. Perhaps you’d have your plans for end-of-life care set, with those who’d be helping you fully aware of your preferences for your physical, emotional and spiritual care as well as how to care for your body after death. The worry over whether you would die at home or who would care for you would not be necessary because those arrangements would already be made and expected. Perhaps you would also share how you would like to see your care circle celebrate your life. The unsaid would be said.
We can’t always predict when we will die and we can’t always control our end of life experience. We are not promised the next minute. What if we controlled what we could in setting our end of life preferences and making them known by our loved ones?
What can we control, you ask? How about who you want to be by your side, whether your pet is with you, whether you die at home (or hospital—it should be your decision), whether you want a lighted room or a dimly lit room: one that smells of lemons and cinnamon, or no scent at all. Soft music or hard rock—it should be your decision on that also. Do you want your circle of love reading to you, or singing, laughing, and reminiscing about old times? Do you want to be touched? Do you want your feet out of the blankets or snuggled under them? These should be your decisions. For myself, I want to decide. That feels like peace to me.