Re: Planning For Death
- From: "Evelyn Ruut" <evelyn.ruut@xxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Sat, 5 Apr 2008 16:31:14 -0400
"Gary" <not@xxxxxxxx> wrote in message news:t3ifv3hsmpvcu3hmpm9mvsifvhuif2bfeo@xxxxxxxxxx
On Sat, 05 Apr 2008 17:53:27 GMT, Rumpelstiltskin
<PleaseDoNotReplyByEmail@xxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
On Sat, 5 Apr 2008 08:00:08 -0400, "Evelyn Ruut"
<evelyn.ruut@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
We pretty much control our thoughts, whether we care to admit it or not.
When my mother died, for instance, I was grief stricken beyond belief. But
I realized life had to go on and I could not remain sad forever. I didn't
throw off my grief, but gently put it aside for a bit, to get on with life.
Someone had to do the cooking and the laundry and pay the bills around here,
or there would be a lot more discomfort than mere grief to deal with. It's
called being a grownup with priorities, and one needs to be functional.
My previous cat died a year and two months ago, but I still
think of him every day. My first cat died more than fifteen
years ago, and I did get to the point where I didn't think of
him every day, until my second cat died, and now I think of
them together. I will get to the point where I don't think of
them everyday, but I'll never "forgive" the "injustice" of their
dying. Life does go on, but I'm not going to sugarcoat the
loss or try to wish it away. What happens really happens.
One can try to drown it in an opium fog of one sort or
another if one wishes that, but I don't choose to take steps
to make sure I work up a good opium fog.
LISTEN, children,
Your father is dead.
From his old coats
I'll make you little jackets;
I'll make you little trousers
From his old pants.
There'll be in his pockets
Things he used to put there:
Keys and pennies
Covered with tobacco.
Dan shall have the pennies
To save in his bank;
Anne shall have the keys
To make a pretty noise with.
Life must go on
And the dead be forgotten;
Life must go on
Though good men die.
Anne, eat your breakfast;
Dan, take your medicine.
Life must go on;
I forget just why.
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Likewise, it is an absolute that we are all of us oneday, going to die. I
refuse to spoil my days and nights dwelling in that space, viewing it as a
sad event, when there are things to do people to see and places to go that
are filled with the potential for joy in the meantime. It is how I justify
'using up air and groceries' (as high miles likes to say ;-)
I don't dwell on my own death at all. I rarely think of it.
When it approaches, I may be ready, or maybe not.
That's the way it is with all of us. But what is "ready" ?
I cannot imagine being ready for death. To me "ready" signifies
"acceptance". "Fight against the dying ember".
I once read some guy who wrote -- and I agree -- that it is not death
we fear. It is "not being". The idea of not being gives me the
creeps, if you'll pardon the expression.
Before you were born you were "not being". Was it painful or a bad experience? Perhaps not being is gentle and soft, or pleasant and dreamless like a good snooze. We don't really know.
--
Best Regards,
Evelyn
.
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