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Thinking About the End Game
In a traditional “viewing,” a largely Southern custom these days, the 
family of the deceased rents a room, often within a church, and then invites the relatives and friends of the deceased to socialize and, if they wish, say a few words to the embalmed corpse.
I know, I know, it seems a little weird and macabre, but many of our funeral customs are a little weird and macabre.
At the few viewings I attended, I would pour a cup of coffee and talk to old friends and family… but my mind was always on the corpse lying in an open casket off to the side. Now disconnected from the living, formaldehyde in his veins, the corpse seemed a part of another world, a world of utter stillness and quietude in contrast to the murmurs and movement in the rest of the viewing room.
At some point, I would excuse myself from the little group I was visiting with, walk over to the casket, and look down at the face of death. The sight was always unsettling and profound. I always came away from these viewings in a reflective mood.
It might be said that death is a blessing. Life is precious only because death, its companion but mirror opposite, waits for us down the road apiece.
I’ve long been fascinated by death. In fact, when I was a young man, a colleague and I put together a rhetoric/reader for college composition classes, one chapter of which was on the controversy, triggered by Jessica Mitford, on the excesses of the American way of death.
And through the years (I’m now 80) I keep returning to the subject. I just think it’s weird, really weird, that my consciousness will, not too long from now (according to actuary tables, I have seven more years), disappear from the universe forever. As a hippy might say, “Like wow, man, that’s heavy!”
I’ve always thought that one ought to give his end days serious and unblinkered consideration.
One matter that concerns most old people is becoming a burden on loved ones, or a “driv’ler and a show.” (Samuel Johnson’s comment on Jonathan Swift’s humiliating last days after his stroke).
Unfortunately, science now has the tools to keep us alive long past our expiration dates, living an empty and shriveled existence in hospice care, sometimes with tubes in our noses, machines to breath for us, and piling up medical bills. And there we are, consuming resources that should go to the living. The dying, I believe, have an obligation to the living. That’s why I have a copy of Derek Humphry’s Final Exit, a guidebook for those who want to end life on their own terms.
But even with the best of intentions, you may still end up in that dreadful state without knowing it, probably because the decline of your mental facilities was so gradual that you pass the point of no return without really knowing it. Then your brain no longer functions well enough to make a rational decision. Or perhaps you are debilitated so badly that you lack the ability to end your life.
Or you might discover that, from a distance, it was easy to say that you would put an end to life when the time was right, but then as the end approaches, you cling to life like a drowning swimmer clings to a floating log. On his deathbed, Goethe cried out, “Mehr Licht! Mehr Licht!” (More light!)
Keeping all this in mind, I believe, is better than avoiding thinking about it. Forethought is forearmed.
I’ve asked my daughter, a funeral director, to cremate me. (She’s promised to wait until I’m dead.) I have this little walnut box I made a while back for my ashes, right next to two fancy boxes I had previously made that contain my mom and dad’s ashes. Marie will keep care of us all for a while, and then she will join us on the fireplace mantle. Four neat little boxes of the Forresters. We’ll all be sittin’ in the catbird seat.
Postscript: Bob the dog will probably outlive Marie and me, so he will be left behind. I know he’s going to miss us dreadfully. I will make sure he’s cared for.
Published in General
Your thoughts will probably live past your body if your kids find themselves repeating things you told them. And they will influence their kids and so on. That’s what I hope to have happen, for better or worse. The Progressive commercial hits on this theme of sounding like your parents. I find that sometimes I remind myself of my mother by a mannerism or saying.
I think it is important to stop and recognize/pay tribute to the deceased. It is a good time for reflection.
Our lives are our projects, and we want to complete them before we go on to the next one. :-)
Yeah man, that is heavy.
Ralphie, I do too. It is a good time for reflection.
It annoys me when cops, coroners, etc., crack wise around a corpse, even in a work of fiction.
Marci, I agree that we should complete our “projects” before we go on to the next ones. I just think that a certain point in our lives, we have completed them. After that point — dementia, vegetative state, etc. —it’s hard to see anything being completed except bodily functions.
I wouldn’t mind. I mean, I’d be dead, but I preemptively grant people permission to make jokes at my expense or otherwise lighten the mood as long as they’re funny.
This was what we sang after my grandfather passed, at his request:
Goodness, I wasn’t arguing with you. I think you expressed beautifully how we all feel about getting our life’s projects and missions completed before moving on. We want to make sure our children are safe and sound and that our financial affairs are in order. :-)
Marci, I misread. Sorry
Our mom died in 2015 at the age of 93. Her viewing was so raucous, the younger kids with noise sensitivity had to leave the room. She would have loved it.
Maybe dealing with death is easier if you have faith? For one thing, “becoming a burden” is an opportunity for sanctification of one’s caregivers. I’ve told this to my seriously ill child on occasion — “you’re helping people get to heaven.”
Modern man is pretty poor at dealing with suffering and death. I think so much of our cultural decay is due to avoidance of suffering as if avoidance is a good in itself. All of life belies that notion. Athletes only achieve excellence through suffering. Same with scholars, and parents, and professionals…
I had to laugh at Chief Justice Roberts’s “deepest condolences” at the passing of Justice Stevens. The man died at age 99 after having a stroke the previous day!! For heaven’s sake, does it get much better than that??! Maybe I’m missing something, but that seems like a pretty terrific life and death to me.
Ken, why don’t you talk to a minister or priest as part of your end game prepping? Just want to make sure you have the full picture. You may not get to go out as planned and you cited the reasons why. Western Chauvinist makes a good point about the sanctification of loved ones caring for someone in the passing stages. @westernchauvinist can you elaborate?
Also, if you do yourself in, that cancels out any and all life insurance that Marie and Bob would get, if they survive you (that sounds kind of funny – they’ve survived you up to this point – haha!). I think it would be a kick to have one of those New Orleans-style send offs where there’s a band playing in the streets, people dancing with umbrellas and then have a big drunkin party – and sprinkle me at sunset out on the water as the grand finale – too much?
Cat, no life insurance, so that’s not a problem.
I was good friends with a minister in Kentucky and had many discussions with him.
I’m with you and Chauvinist. I too believe that caring for a dying person is ennobling. As for the street party and dancing and music: I would prefer a few nice words by my wife and kids. And that’s it. I would like any ritual connected with my passing to be simple and cheap.
I hadn’t ever thought of it as regional. I think it’s pretty common here in the St. Louis area. Then again, we’re pretty close to the South.
1 Corinthians 15: 55-57
Highly recommend Julian Barnes’ Nothing to Be Frightened Of, an eminently readable “memoir of mortality”, an especially good resource for those times when one’s own end is on one’s mind.
One review on amazon called it “an astonishingly witty book for a morbid subject.” Hear, hear!
Well, I learned my lesson. Before this post on death, I had thirteen straight posts that went to the Main Feed.
No more posts on death.
If only you had included a photo of Bob…
I always thought that hospice care was palliative, not meant to extend life where there is considered to be no hope of recovery.
Joel, I think that is the purpose, but when a “patient” starts gasping for air, nurses are trained to give oxygen. And once you’re on oxygen, it’s hard to stop the flow. So there you are, sometimes even despite the wishes of the husband/wife/mother/father.
I’ve had some experience with this.
I have this same book, and boy, you only have a month left of being 80.
I know, Kay. And you know what? I look forward to each birthday.
I guess you’re still older than I am. I don’t think I’ll ever catch you.
It’s probably just that the editors are busy, but there is, as Malcolm Gladwell talked about in his book Tipping Point, a “permission effect” to be wary of when discussing this subject. I think the post talks about concerns we all have. But it’s important in public settings to realize that people are always worried about these issues, and some readers may be facing difficult healthcare decisions for themselves or someone else. I would hate to be responsible for someone facing a decision about some type of treatment and reading a post like this. He or she might decline the needed treatment having been put into a negative mood and focusing on the difficulties and expense. Absolutely no one wants to be a burden to others. It’s important for all of us to avoid making people feel as though they are burdens to others. And it’s also important to encourage each other, not scare each other, about treatment. It is sometimes simply easier to just not bother with treatment.
My husband went through treatment for prostate cancer six months ago. It was very successful because his doctors caught it so early. We spent a lot of time in a cancer treatment center, and I was impressed by how hard the doctors and nurses work to make the experience as stress free as possible to encourage people to go through it. I think that is the right way for us to be with each other.
Dying is pretty easy. Living is a little harder. Sometimes we need to make sure the people we love know they matter to us. Otherwise, they will give up. And that kind of mood is very contagious. We always think we can control it with our modern language capability, but we can’t. We’ll lose a lot of people sooner than we need to.
I think today people are walking that fine line in healthcare where they’ve thought about it, made plans, and signed proxy forms or living wills, and they are ready for whatever comes. I think that puts everyone’s mind at ease that they will have control over their healthcare. It seems to be working out well, just as you’ve described in your excellent post.
I do worry, however, that we talk so much about it these days and we see so much about it in the mass media, fiction and nonfiction, that death is starting to look like what we do for our pets, a way to end our suffering and also avoid becoming a burden to people. Unfortunately, in presenting it that way, we are inadvertently luring people into suicide. We are making it so gosh darned attractive.
Marci, you have an unfair advantage over me. You read books.
Marci wrote: “I do worry, however, that we talk so much about it these days and we see so much about it in the mass media, fiction and nonfiction, that death is starting to look like what we do for our pets, a way to end our suffering and also avoid becoming a burden to people. Unfortunately, in presenting it that way, we are inadvertently luring people into suicide. We are making it so gosh darned attractive.”
Marci, I think that too many people avoid thinking clearly and rationally about their end days, and they therefore allow themselves drift into bad endings. And what is a bad ending? Lying in a bed in a hospital or hospice, incapacitated, perhaps incontinent, perhaps doped up to relieve suffering, perhaps demented. You no longer recognize the people who come to see you, and you use up resources that would normally go to the living.
I have had a couple of friends end up badly because they failed to act when they could and then let things slide until it was too late.
In the past, these people would have died a natural death. Now they are kept alive, through modern technology, long past their natural expiration dates.
I recently had our beloved cat euthanized to end its suffering. Ebie’s death was easy, painless, and humane. I think our cat would have agreed with our decision if it could have been able to tell us. There comes a time when letting one live is almost cruel and unusual punishment.
We have legal suicide here in Oregon, but you have to go through too many government hoops, in my view, in order to get to drugs that will allow you to commit suicide.
Marci, thank you so much for your response. Ricochet will thrive as long as it has thoughtful posters and responders like you.
Kent, I hope that your post does get promoted to main feed, not because I necessarily agree with all your views, but because you brought up a topic very worthy of consideration and discussion. I know that you have said that you don’t have “the religious gene”, or something to that effect, but I offer here a quote that expresses the views of many Christians
Kent,
Your second paragraph quoted here makes very good sense. Memento mori, is very Catholic – but unfortunately much of the Church and the culture has lost the good sense to reflect on the Four Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. These are things that also require serious and unblinkered consideration.
The readings today in the EF of the TLM spoke of the virtue of hope: the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit.
Now that’s heavy, man.
This is true. My father died last July – he was 90. He suffered Parkinson’s Disease for 15 years. The last year of his life he spent in a nursing home, cared for by people who helped him live. He was barely mobile, he could hardly talk, he wore a diaper, and he looked like hell – he was a mess. But he wasn’t past his expiration date in that last year. He had many friends and family who visited him, and by doing so, we learned how to love deeper. He spent a year dying, and we spent a year learning to live. It was his last gift to us.
Despair and presumption are the antithesis of hope.
Scott Wilmot wrote:
“This is true. My father died last July – he was 90. He suffered Parkinson’s Disease for 15 years. The last year of his life he spent in a nursing home, cared for by people who helped him live. He was barely mobile, he could hardly talk, he wore a diaper, and he looked like hell – he was a mess. But he wasn’t past his expiration date in that last year. He had many friends and family who visited him, and by doing so, we learned how to love deeper. He spent a year dying, and we spent a year learning to live. It was his last gift to us.”
Scott, I didn’t take into consideration cases like your father’s. But now that you have put it so eloquently, I agree completely.
You wrote, “He had many friends and family who visited him, and by doing so, we learned how to love deeper. He spent a year dying, and we spent a year learning to live. It was his last gift to us.”
Scott, that is a powerful statement. Would that all end days and deaths were so instructive. I’ve seen end days that weren’t so instructive, merely humiliating.
I had a death in my family that burned itself deeply into my memory. Oddly, I will sometimes bring up the memory, even if it is somewhat painful, just to be close to that person again.
I wonder if there is some service or internet meet up group where people can go to ensure someone will look after their pets when they are no longer able or around? As I approach retirement age and start to think about these questions that’s something that bothers me.
Petit, it’s been on my mind lately, too. I will make sure that Bob the dog is taken care of, though I’m not sure how. We have a younger neighbor who loves Bob, so I will probably talk to her about it when the time comes.
yeah, I grew up in the southwest and always thought of viewings as normal thing. I’ve attended viewings for family in Utah and Idaho.
Evening Kent,
If we think of worst cases, we could say to ourselves, “I don’t want to have some one change my diapers, that’s gross, especially my children!” Isn’t this thought a result of the luxury of our lives, we have been so shielded from death and our bodies that we now view the difficulties of dying as icky, we think we are doing our children or carers a favor by arranging a cleaner death. Remember the sick saying, “live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse”, so now we view the painfully thin, aged person, who is loosing clarity as somehow less human. I think it would be a useful discipline to care for the most hopeless (ie. Reagan) as if they were as sacred as any one; because this discipline would insure that we would take care of everyone as sacred, even the most hopelessly vegetative patient. I know that death can be hard to see, to watch, to endure but I am not sure that shielding others including my children from my death is for their good, and if I model the idea that this is a part of my life the I am willing to accept as it is given to me, then I will make their lives easier in the long run.