Certainty

We are all willing to talk about taxes some of us have very strong opinions and are not unwilling to share them. Death is, as they say, an entirely different kettle of herring.

I attended the death of a much loved family member. It brought sadness, tears and the recognition at the end of the process that the person was no longer there and would be no more. The consolation, if any existed, was that the death was dignified, peaceful and by all the evidence without pain. Since I had been there I felt a duty to report this to members of the family as appropriately as I could. I hope it was part of the process of grieving and life for us. One appeared very grateful for this, wanting to know but not knowing how to ask.

My own experience of the dead started early in life. In death my family were laid out in an open coffin in our front room (a 2 up 2 down slum) in Salford. Family, friends and neighbours would visit to view the body, pray and, of course, take tea. The corpse would remain with us overnight before the funeral and burial. I knew what the dying and the dead were like. I have avoided a fear of dead bodies but I am sure will piss and panic at my own death if I am conscious.

Different traditions exist in different communities. I read an article in the NYT by Ben Daitz about attempts to enable the Diné to speak of death and the dead. While it is necessary to discuss these from the perspective of care and near death provision the Diné religion and tradition makes this very difficult if not impossible. It was reported that one way to ease this process was to read the poem below with those affected.

When that time comes,
When my last breath leaves me,
I choose to die in peace
To meet Shi’dy’in