Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
I'm leaving tonight's debate live chat early to make it down to my church's evening Ash Wednesday service where the pastor will remind all in attendance that "for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return" as we receive the ashes. The Ash Wednesday service is one of the most meaningful of the entire church calendar for me because I, despite a great hope in eternity, continually struggle with the acceptance of death.
A passage in Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's 1993 speech "We have ceased to see the purpose" (of which we discussed a portion here) captured my attention recently, and I think it aptly speaks to why our culture is so uncomfortable with death.
And nothing so bespeaks the current helplessness of our spirit, our intellectual disarray, as the loss of a clear and calm attitude towards death. The greater his well-being, the deeper the chilling fear of death cuts into the soul of modern man. This mass fear, a fear the ancients did not know, was born of our insatiable, loud, and bustling life. Man has lost the sense of himself as a limited point in the universe, albeit one possessed of free will. He began to deem himself the center of his surroundings, adapting not himself to the world but the world to himself. And then, of course, the thought of death becomes unbearable: it is the extinction of the entire universe at a stroke.
Having refused to recognize the unchanging Higher Power above us, we have filled that space with personal imperatives, and suddenly life has become a harrowing prospect indeed.
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Nov '11
Re: Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
As the distant theoretical question becomes a near-pressing reality, the abyss terrifies sometimes, yet one grows accustomed, as a highrise windowwasher must feel less vertiginous at noon than at eight in the morning.
My fears are practical.
I worry most about how my wife will fare alone in old-age.
I do worry about how I will die--not so much about pain--because pain meds help and, like the existential vertigo, there's a point when pain doesn't register anymore.
What worries me is an ugly death tormenting those who see me dying. When my father-in-law was dying of cancer that invaded his brain, in delirium he said some dreadful things. Looking right into my eyes, he said, "I hate you!" (Thank God, no one else heard!) I know he didn't mean it--we were very close--but his last words to me still torment.
So my wife and I had this conversation:
"I love you, my darling. If in delirium I say something dreadful, please remember what I'm saying now. 'It will mean nothing.' Tell me you know it will mean nothing."
"I know, my love, it will mean nothing."
Strangely practical.
Re: Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
Astonishing:
What worries me is an ugly death tormenting those who see me dying. When my father-in-law was dying of cancer that invaded his brain, in delirium he said some dreadful things. Looking right into my eyes, he said, "I hate you!" (Thank God, no one else heard!) I know he didn't mean it--we were very close--but his last words to me still torment.
This was one of the hardest things about my grandfather's death a few years ago. He left the world swinging at everyone who loved him with such dreadful and wounding words. Unfortunately, he was never generous with positive and uplifting words during his life, so I don't know that he ever cared for me in the first place.
This impressed to me the importance of what you communicate in your comment above — letting our loved ones know often how much we love and cherish them before it's too late.
Feb '12
Re: Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
Astonishing:
What worries me is an ugly death tormenting those who see me dying. When my father-in-law was dying of cancer that invaded his brain, in delirium he said some dreadful things. Looking right into my eyes, he said, "I hate you!" (Thank God, no one else heard!) I know he didn't mean it--we were very close--but his last words to me still torment.
So my wife and I had this conversation:
"I love you, my darling. If in delirium I say something dreadful, please remember what I'm saying now. 'It will mean nothing.' Tell me you know it will mean nothing."
"I know, my love, it will mean nothing."
Strangely practical.
Practical - and beautiful.
Jun '10
Re: Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
Leporello
Astonishing:
What worries me is an ugly death tormenting those who see me dying. When my father-in-law was dying of cancer that invaded his brain, in delirium he said some dreadful things. Looking right into my eyes, he said, "I hate you!" (Thank God, no one else heard!) I know he didn't mean it--we were very close--but his last words to me still torment.
So my wife and I had this conversation:
"I love you, my darling. If in delirium I say something dreadful, please remember what I'm saying now. 'It will mean nothing.' Tell me you know it will mean nothing."
"I know, my love, it will mean nothing."
Strangely practical.
Practical - and beautiful. · 5 minutes ago
My mom, in the depths of dementia before she died in November, said some words to me that could have been incredibly hurtful. I found great peace is going back through the 80+ years in which she showed me nothing but unreserved love. That was the real mom, and the hurtful words could not overwhelm her years of love.
Astonishing: I love how you've handled it.
Dec '10
Re: Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
shelby_forthright: My aunt died yesterday - seven months after her husband had passed. I received the news just before I left for church wednesday evening. She had lived a full life. It was her time.
I came home from church and went up to bed. My beloved wife was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Both of our dogs were in bed with me. The little dog was dancing in front of my wife's pillow. I thought to myself, "Not yet ashes." This thing, life, still held little Otto's atoms in place. Less than fifty years from now we will all be dead but this moment of grace has been given to us. It is all so precious.
This is what Ash Wednesday means. We are all hurtling towards our deaths. There is nothing so valuable than the time we are given. Spend it well. · 4 hours ago
My condolences on your loss.
Jun '10
Re: Solzhenitsyn on Mortality
Stuart Creque
shelby_forthright: My aunt died yesterday - seven months after her husband had passed. I received the news just before I left for church wednesday evening. She had lived a full life. It was her time.
I came home from church and went up to bed. My beloved wife was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Both of our dogs were in bed with me. The little dog was dancing in front of my wife's pillow. I thought to myself, "Not yet ashes." This thing, life, still held little Otto's atoms in place. Less than fifty years from now we will all be dead but this moment of grace has been given to us. It is all so precious.
This is what Ash Wednesday means. We are all hurtling towards our deaths. There is nothing so valuable than the time we are given. Spend it well. · 4 hours ago
My condolences on your loss. · 2 hours ago
thank you