Sometimes they are nudges. Other times, pokes. More rarely, thankfully, they are punches in the gut. Most often, I think of them as "mortality slaps." Whatever their intensity and however they come, they are reminders that our lives are limited. One day, who knows when (or perhaps we're getting a pretty good idea), we will die. For many, if not most of us, that is a hard reality to truly consider. No wonder we often choose to think of other things.
Perhaps you've heard of this way of reading obituaries: "Older than me. Older than me. Younger than me. About my age...whoa."
Mortality slap.
Someone you know is losing their memory or their eyesight or their ability to walk.
Slap.
You see an old picture of yourself. Did you really look like that? You compare with what you see in the mirror. Do you really look like this? My goodness.
A nudge, a poke, and sometimes a slap.
There are some things you used to do without really thinking. Now they are hard. They take a lot longer. Or maybe now they're not really possible.
Slap some more.
A funeral notice for your friend's parent. A coworker's spouse dies. Your class reunion will have one less classmate to invite. The results of the biopsy came in and treatment will start in a week.
More slaps.
Then some slaps turn to punches. Death takes your best friend. Your partner. Your mom, dad, sister, or brother. God-forbid, your child.
Back-handed slap and to your gut. How do we live with these reminders, from subtle to harsh, that our days are numbered? We seem to do several things.
One is what might be called "adaptive denial." We don't think about it all the time. We do this when we drive down the highway.
The reality is that a mistake on our part, a mistake on another driver's part, or some random thing could lead to our death whenever we get behind the wheel. But that's too much to ponder each and every minute. So, we don't think about the potential life-and-death consequences at all times when we drive. But when we pass a wreck or we have a near miss, our "adaptive denial" takes the backseat as we sit up, put our hands at 10 and 2, and pay more attention.
At least for a while. Then we gradually go back to being reasonably safe and cautious and not so anxious. The threat is always there but it doesn't have to be our constant focus.
That matter of focus is another way to respond. Rather than focus most of our attention on the losses and the eventual losing, we focus on what is not lost and the possibilities that remain. Attention to losses and losing is needed, but we try not to get stuck there. Sometimes we need to visit the cemetery, but the cemetery is not where we want to live.
We also try to find the balance between things we mostly control, like our decisions, and those things outside of our control like the passing of time and the reality that everyone dies. In the world of expecting parents, mothers are often encouraged to follow a "best-odds diet"--a diet that doesn't guarantee a healthy baby (no such guarantees exist) but gives the "best odds" of a healthy baby. In similar fashion, we often seek the balance of a "best-odds" approach to living. No guarantees but some choices will increase our chances for life and living that are both potentially longer and more satisfying.
And we go with it, go with the awareness that comes from being slapped and being mortal. We pay attention and ponder and weigh our priorities. We hope and pray for wisdom to make good use of the time we're provided. We lean into the reality, at least for a while, of our limitations as there are important lessons there. We practice living with greater awareness and less avoidance of the reality of death.
Those living closer to the edge of living, closer to death, often have some insights for the rest of us. Insights like there can be things worse than dying. Insights like there can come a time when there is a relief in our mortality, where death does not have to be regarded as an enemy, where endless living in our present state would not be a blessing.
My first lesson about a less-anxious approach to death was from my paternal grandmother. She was a religious woman in her eighties, widowed twice, lived alone, didn't feel well, and rarely left the house. When I was a boy, she told me, "I'm ready to go any time." There have been others met since then, mostly old but sometimes young, who have felt the same.
Perhaps for these, and for some others, it is not a slap or a poke or a punch. Maybe instead it's a touch on the shoulder, one hand taking another, or perhaps even a welcoming and warm embrace.
Maybe for some future mortality slap, one option for us would be to take that slapping hand in our own and say, "That's not really necessary. I'm trying to pay attention. Why don't we just sit together for a while?"
Greg Adams, LCSW, ACSW, FT
Program Coordinator
Center for Good Mourning
goodmourning@archildrens.org
Dear Barbara, Is the process of dying different for the elderly? Is it different for children?
There is no difference for a young person dying from disease, a medium aged or an older person. People dying from disease, whether old or young or in-between, go through the same process.
An older person with no disease actually goes through the same dying process as someone with a disease, only it takes the healthy, older person longer--years instead of months, months instead of weeks. When it comes down to days, hours, and minutes, we all die in the same time frame, no matter age...
What does it mean to lose and to live with a great loss? What is it like to find love and a relationship in life that feels like home? And how are these-losing, finding, losing again, finding again-connected?
Kathryn Schulz explores these questions and themes in her beautifully written memoir, Lost & Found. Among the losses experienced and described in the first section of the book is the life and person of her father.
She elaborates on his life, the life of her family, and their experiences with his illness and death. He was a huge presence and influence, and so his loss subsequently is also huge.
In the next section, Schulz writes about the anxieties and excitements she experiences as she finds a loving partner who eventually becomes her wife. We learn that this experience actually overlapped with the finding of losing her father. Great loss and great finding were happening simultaneously. Her insights and descriptions of both are beautiful.
The last section of the book is about "and" or "&." Schulz tells of the history of the ampersand and cleverly illuminates connections between losing and finding, and finding and losing. It is never just one experience, and as we find someone to love, we are confronted with the reality that we will one day lose that person as one of us will leave and the other will have to wrestle with memories and goodbye.
This was the book chosen for reading and discussing for our Alliance for Grief and Loss group in the spring of 2023. One of the group remarked that if one feels the need for a book with a bullet-point list of coping ideas, this is not the right book. If, however, one would like a kind, accessible, and thoughtful reflection on the aspects of finding and losing, love and grief, that are found in the human condition, this could certainly be the right book.
Fall Good Mourning Grief Support Groups and Alliance for Grief and Loss Zoom meetings resume in September for those who provide grief support to others.
Good Mourning Grief Support Groups are for any child or teen, ages Kindergarten through high school, who have experienced the death of a family member or friend. There are also support groups available for the adults in the family. There is no charge for the program, but a completed application is required for each child or teen. For fall 2023, there will be an in-person series with a Parent Orientation on Tuesday, September 12, and the 8-week series on Tuesday evenings beginning September 19. To, request an online application, go to www.goodmourningcenter.org. For more information, call 501-364-7000.
Alliance for Grief and Loss will be provided online in a video-conference format.
The Alliance for Grief and Loss is an informal coalition of helping professionals interested in grief and loss issues. Meetings will be on Zoom. "Business" will be at 11:30 a.m. and the program will begin at 11:45 a.m. unless otherwise noted. Live presentations will end at 1:00 p.m. and 90-minute webinars will end at 1:30 p.m. Zoom connection information will be sent prior to each meeting.
October 13, 2023
Death Doulas - Laurie Smith Prudhomme
November 10, 2023
Guilt and Grief - Greg Adams
December 8, 2023
Courageous Well-being: Strategies for Personal and Professional Renewal - National Alliance for Children’s Grief webinar
January 19, 2024
Parents of Murdered Children
February 9, 2024
Holding onto Grief: Addressing Resistance to Change in Bereavement - Presented by Robert A. Neimeyer, PhD—ADEC webinar
March 8, 2024
Bereaved Parent to Funeral Director - Jodie McGinley
April 2024 (TBD)
HFA Living with Grief: topic to be announced
May 10, 2024
Book review and discussion—book to be chosen in spring 2024
Meetings will be by online video conference using computer or smartphone. "Business" will be at 11:30 a.m. and the program will begin at 11:45 a.m. unless noted otherwise. In-person presentations will end at 1:00 p.m. and 90-minute webinars will end at 1:30 p.m.
Please email goodmourning@archildrens.org for more information or to be added to the email mailing list for the Alliance for Grief and Loss.
All are welcome.