Thoughts on death

I’ve been think­ing about death late­ly.  My own, actually.

Oh, I’m not obsessed with it nor morose about it.  It’s just that, as I enter my “twi­light years” the immi­nence of death looms ever clos­er and I won­der if oth­ers reach­ing the same point in their lives often won­der about what the end will be like.

As I see oth­ers of advanced age pass on I can’t help won­der­ing if they died peace­ful­ly or if they suf­fered under a lengthy peri­od of pain.  Did they wel­come the soft kiss of death or was it await­ed with dread and fear?

Frankly, I don’t know how I will respond if I know it is near but I’m sure that we all hope to depart with some mea­sure of dignity.

It’s amaz­ing to think back and real­ize how lit­tle the aspect of death so sel­dom enters our thoughts dur­ing our younger years.  Most of us even go through a phase when we feel absolute­ly inde­struc­tible and per­haps that explains the haz­ardous things we often do in our youth and shud­der about lat­er in life, pon­der­ing if we were just stu­pid or only fool­hardy, although the two are usu­al­ly inseparable.

I also won­der why so many peo­ple are uncom­fort­able with sim­ply say­ing that “some­one died” and have to resort to using the phrase “passed on.” Is the one phrase some­how more com­fort­ing than the other?

And the process of dying is treat­ed so strange­ly amongst us, espe­cial­ly in the med­ical pro­fes­sion.  The caveat among physi­cians is “do no harm” but how can that be assumed to entail keep­ing some­one alive through extra­or­di­nary means even when a release to death not only meets the demands of the patient but poten­tial­ly allows them an easy pas­sage from life, espe­cial­ly one wracked with unceas­ing pain?

Why does soci­ety not have an allow­able euthana­sia process legal­ly avail­able?  Isn’t the great­est con­trol that one can have over their own body being able to select a means to their own demise?  I know if I were dying from some debil­i­tat­ing dis­ease that was caus­ing me exor­bi­tant pain, I would most like­ly wel­come some end­ing that would stop the pain even it meant an ear­li­er departure.

Assisted sui­cide is legal in Washington, D.C. and nine states and pas­sive euthana­sia is legal in all states.  Passive euthana­sia is the with­hold­ing of life-sus­tain­ing mea­sures, often the result of DNR (do not resus­ci­tate) directives.

For me, the most humane method of dying was illus­trat­ed in the movie Soylent Green when Edward G. Robinson chose a state-offered method which pro­vid­ed him with a poi­son that result­ed in a pain­less death while he was exposed to images of a long-lost child­hood and the sounds of Bethoven’s Pastoral.

He died peace­ful­ly and at peace.  Could any of us ask for more?

I’m not anx­ious to expe­ri­ence my end of life.  Mostly because I’m very self­ish and want to expe­ri­ence as much of life as pos­si­ble.  I also don’t rel­ish the thought of not being able to hear all the nice things peo­ple will have to say about me once I’m gone.  Of course, that’s assum­ing that there will be a few peo­ple who have such things to say.  I expect there will be a good many who have oppos­ing feel­ings.  To those I offer the words of Clarence Darrow: “I nev­er want­ed to see any­body die but there are a few obit­u­ary notices I have read with pleasure.”

I have some regrets from life.  I nev­er learned a sec­ond lan­guage.  I nev­er learned to play a musi­cal instru­ment.  There are some oth­er regrets which are too per­son­al to relate here.

I can’t com­plain about life too much.  I have ben­e­fit­ted from a close and lov­ing fam­i­ly, a good mar­riage that last­ed over half a cen­tu­ry, a pro­fes­sion that I thor­ough­ly enjoyed and which pro­duced some good works that will remain for a good while after I am gone.  I have also ben­e­fit­ted from many kind and good friends, some of whom entered my life much too late.

Perhaps my great­est regret is that I will not see the out­come of the lives of my son, his wife who is the same as my own daugh­ter and, most espe­cial­ly, my grand­son. And I am espe­cial­ly rue­ful that I am leav­ing them a world that is not near­ly as well off as the one bequeathed to me.  I hope I shall be for­giv­en that.

During the peri­od of time that this col­umn was being pre­pared – sev­er­al days – my sis­ter died, one day after her 87^th birth­day.  The thoughts – and facts — of death are sel­dom far away.