Dining with Death

Tonight I enjoyed a vivid plate of freshly sourced local delicacies and the company of others as we contemplated our demise. 

Our host had recently attended a similar dinner at the home of an oncologist.  The idea:  meet with others and talk straight about one of the few experiences we absolutely will all share but rarely discuss-- mortality.  We talked about a death that impacted us and toasted each (here's to you, Mary Zee).  We talked about what we feared most about death, what we wanted to accomplish before and what legacies we wanted to leave.  It was an enlightening evening, both easier and more difficult than I imagined.  The conversation's only started.

Started by Seattle artist/activist Michael Hubb, Death Over Dinner is a way to encourage us to think and talk about how we want our end to be.  The aim:  get end of life issues on the table.
I've seen people of great significance in my life die in the last few years.  My own mortality has never felt much of a concern, but watching others go is hard.  Several of these deaths came in a short period of time and I went on a death-reading-binge, perhaps thinking if I glutted on facts the emotional part would relent.  It did, some.

I did clarify my hoped-for legacy tonight.  I want to leave my children and maybe a few other people I've met with a little more love for the natural world, a desire to be kind to themselves and others, and a joy and wonder and curiosity for life and learning.  That would be great.


I hope you'll consider talking about death, with your family and physician.  Fill out your advance directives.  We can't avoid it, so let's do what we can to make it what we hope.  

If you're ready to look death in the eye, here are a few recommended reads.  I had to do a search to get the correct title for one of these.  It's telling that if one enters books about death and dying into that certain major vendor site, the vast majority of books are about heaven, reincarnation, etc.  Not these.  You've been warned. 

STIFF, by science writer Mary Roach, opens with a scene that should give
nightmares-- but it must to be the funniest nonfiction book about mortality written.  She covers the gamut from body donation to biological decay, with smarts and a truly morbid sense of humor.

The Undertaking and Bodies in Motion and at Rest, by poet and mortician Thomas Lynch.  These essays from a small town undertaker look deep at final moments and the wake of them, and he writes with lyricism and wonder.  PBS' Frontline made a film about his work; you can see it by clicking this link.

The Thing About Life is That One Day You'll Be Dead, by David Shields.  I liked one this a lot, but be warned, many reviewers seem to have a hard time with it.  It's half memoir, half encyclopedia of the rampages of human decay.  The author is a 50 something man with coming into a death-grip with his own mortality and working through a difficult history with his 97 year old dad, who apparently refuses to die.   Shield has a wicked sense of humor that is so dry some will miss it.  He opens the first pages listing all the things we do to preserve and prolong our lives:  yoga, low-fat, jogging, decaf-- then reminds us:  you're still going to die, sucker.  I read this at a time when I needed that slap.

Learning to Fall:  The Blessings of an Imperfect Life, by Philip Simmons.  Simmons, a professor of writing, was 35 years old when death became an imminent reality with his diagnosis of ALS.   This is his love letter to life, a spiritual teaching tale.

How We Die:  Reflections on Life's Final Chapter, by Sherwin B.Nuland.  This classic book by a surgeon was probably the first modern unflinching look at our common and ubiquitous outcome, and stirred much of the movement toward end of life directives.  It also won, rightly, a National Book Award.  It's sobering and profound. Fresh Air's Terry Gross interviewed Nuland in 1994-- it's well worth a listen two decades later.

January 8th Challenge: Ponder Your Mortality

Ready for something a little meatier?  It's Tuesday; the weekend past already a distant memory and the one ahead so far away.  As long as we are in the doldrums, let's dive in.
As the title suggests, today's challenge is not for the faint of heart. Or perhaps it is EXACTLY for that.  Who knows when yours will beat for the last time?
On Being host Krista Tippet noted there's something interesting about mortality: "It's not at all special but it is something that we manage to avoid an awareness of, especially in Western culture". 

Annie, late September 2012

And it's on my mind tonight, as I prepare a memorial for a friend.  Anne was one of the liveliest, most loving, most joyful persons I have known.  The picture you see was taken only five weeks before she died of pancreatic cancer, and 3 months after she completed that half-marathon in the other picture.    That September day we did yoga, sang, strolled the beach, laughed heartily, made art.  She led the group of us in a Qi Gong session.  We talked about what she was facing.  We knew logically she was dying-- the cancer had spread to her liver, and she'd been told medical treatments were useless by then.  Yet it was still unimaginable that such force, such aliveness, could be so in the world and then-- leave.  She made peace with it.  She died as she had lived, full of light and love.

What is the point of considering our time here to be finite?  There are many. We can examine how we spend our days, and remembering they are numbered, choose more clearly where our energy goes. We can appreciate the richness of the present moment. 

proud mama, proud son-- Half Marathon, Smashed It!

It's a heavy topic, I know.  It's also a common denominator to all of our stories.

Possible ways to meet today's challenge:
Write your own obituary.   Extra credit:  write two.  One as if you died tomorrow, and one as if you died years from now.  What's the difference in where your energy was focused?  What do you have left to accomplish?  What do you want to be less important in your future story than in your present one?
Plan your preferred funeral.  Cremation?  Burial?  Urn, or spreading of ashes? 
Where ?  What form and focus would you like your last party to take?  How would you envision friend and family participating?  How will the setting, the readings, the songs add to easing the journey and help heal the grieving?
Make your bucket list.  What do you want to do with the rest of your life?
Obtain and complete a Living Will or Advanced Medical Directive.  Then make sure someone (or several) you know and trust have a copy.  There are difficult questions in there:  do you want your life prolonged at any cost?  Would you prefer to halt medical treatment that only delays your death but does not enhance your life?

we miss Darrell's details and yet his work is his legacy 

Aim for a little immortality.  Donate blood.  Register as an organ donor.  If you've got money, arrange that some of it goes to a public land trust, library, spiritual or educational center, or other institution you support.
Maybe you could do this with the support and creative juice of others.  Find a quiet place you and fill out those directives together.

Other ideas?
PS we love you so, sweet Annie. Thank you for all your inspirations and belly laughs.  Thank you for teaching us about life and death.  You still shine.

Quote of the day:  “It is necessary to meditate early, and often, on the art of dying to succeed later in doing it properly just once.”  ~Umberto Eco
Song of the day, against my daughter's wishes-- she apparently does not like these guys, but I love this song and especially this backyard version.