No, I’m really not afraid of the dying itself….I want to know what’s on the other side….if there is another side or if it is the great dirt nap as all the doubters of religion and spiritualism think.
Perhaps what affects me most is the thought of the pain usually associated with death, not death itself.
As I get older, so do my parents and a whole generation’s parents. This is pandemically effecting our society today and believe me, it’s not pretty.
Our national healthcare system is effected in so many ways, with expenses in Medicare and Nursing Care and Hospice besides mental care for our generation dealing with it. But I don’t want to get into political issues today, I want to focus on family and emotions.
I can’t even tell you the emotional toll and heartbreak I’ve been through with all the decisions that have to be made with elder-care. Our society would have people live forever if they could, but is it quality or quantity we want for our family members? I’m for quality! When is enough enough? I don’t mean to sound cold-hearted, believe me, I’ve been traveling this road for years with my mother suffering from Alzheimer’s disease and my father from Parkinson’s disease. It seems to me modern medicine can prolong their lives, but I hope for them when they’ve had enough that the “powers that be” will take them and not have them suffer unduly.
To see our once strong heroes turn into weak dependents is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to face, harder than my own brush with breast cancer. To know that there is only so much you can do for them, that the doctors and nurses you and they depend on are now in control no matter how much you wanted to do it ALL for them. The right answer was to call in the professionals, but how do you tell your heart that is the right answer, when you know these were the same people who gave you succor for the first 18 years of your life without thought? It is the right answer, after all, you’ve always learned to get the right person for the job.
When you can’t sleep at night, how do know you’ve done the right thing? You have to believe in yourself and realize that you were taught by these same people, these wonderful parents, right from wrong, to make hard decisions, and not fear death! It is a part of life.
When the time comes for my parents to go to their great reward in the sky, I will be sad because I will miss them, not the shadow of their former selves, but the parents I knew who were strong and taught me many of the things I know, who loved me well, and made me the strong person I am today. I won’t miss the sick old people they are now, I will rejoice that they are relieved of their misery and hope they didn’t suffer too much. I will remember that all things die and that they lived a good long life and were good parents, good people and the same goes for me, I hope my children can make peace with my passing when it’s my time.
I think if we could all remember this and put it into perspective, perhaps the medical industry could, too. Instead, though I know there are many good cures and preventive measures out there today, I’m not sure if all the medication and other measures don’t prolong life too long as these older folks stay at these elder-care facilities “waiting to die”.
I know I don’t have the answer, I just think there may be better ones and perhaps too much intervention isn’t the answer . . .
Remember the good old days when people died of old age, not hung on at the precipice long after you know they’d rather have gone on to their “great reward” ?
© Evelyn Garone 6/5/12
I thought of you when I wrote this….I hope I encapsulated everything well!
U did brilliantly….xoxo
Thank you baby!
It’s this moment that makes the crime of murder so heinous. That there exists a moment when you know that someone can be so presumptuous as to deprive you of your very life. This is why that Regina Spektor line leapt out at me like an angry ferret to the face. This is what makes Death Row such a drawn-out horror. It’s what I’ve never been able to fathom in the reports of WWII firing squads, dozens of pages of them, where trucks of people are taken out to be shot. I can’t understand sitting in the back of that truck. I can’t understand walking obediently to the edge of the pit, standing and waiting. Die running. Die fighting. What happens in someone’s head? Does that knowledge of imminent death make you freeze up? Or do you cling right to the very end to some irrational hope of survival? Perhaps it’s an archaic Trojan view, but to die fighting is at least a free death, one of your own choosing and in which you are the active party. It’s a death that comes while you can still imagine that you might just survive. In that sense a death in battle is glorious. At least it is free of the taint of that other kind of death.
Thanks for sharing your view………very deep indeed!