The first encounter with death that I can remember is with my tortoise, Abraham. When I was about 8, I walked into my room and looked into his little cage. He was still and stiff to the touch. I still don't know what the cause of his demise was. I remember numbness at first, and then anger. I was a very anger-prone child, because I valued justice so highly. Tortoises often live to 300 years of age, and I had expected more than a year of life for my little pet. Why couldn't he have the same privileges as the average tortoise? The death of a young tortoise with a world of potential and time ahead of him seemed earth-shatteringly unfair, especially with no warning to me. I felt slightly guilty, because I was the one caring for him. Was it my fault that he died? Did my friends hold him without washing their hands first, even though I asked them not to? Did I cough on poor little Abraham by accident?
Insignificant as this encounter with death was, it was only the beginning. I have a big family, so I've been to many funerals, especially in the past 3 years. I remember sitting in my room one day, hugging my knees close to my body, overwhelmed by the foreboding feeling that everyone was leaving me, or would sooner or later. The scariest part of this realization was that I couldn't predict it; the time that someone's life ends, the moment that I would indefinitely never be able to say goodbye, is so without rhyme or reason. The only way to predict the end of someone's life is with disease...but how does that work, when most diseases don't lead to death, and not all diseases have apparent symptoms?
Most of my family is Christian, so naturally I was essentially taught that people who repented of their sins, believed that Jesus died on the cross for the sake of the world, and accepted God as their redeemer were saved, and went to Heaven. According to my family, those who had the opportunity and did not do so, went to Hell. Because I was the typical trusting child, and because this made sense to me, I believed it. I suppose this is, in a sense, indoctrination. Let's save that argument and the nuances behind that term for another day. My family never really discussed illness a lot, but if someone we were close with was in the hospital with a probably fatal situation, they would tell my sisters and I. I appreciate this in hindsight, because it saved us from being extremely shocked and horrified. They always approached serious illness and dying with a level of respect that is typical of our culture.
Most people, I think, see death as something horrific and scary. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I definitely don't think it's as climactic as it is portrayed by the media. It is a difficult thing to comprehend, someone dying. Death is basically ending. It is when the body ceases to function, the heart stops beating, activity in the brain ends, etc. Beyond that...who knows? And how do they know? In movies and books, I think it is sometimes sugarcoated to be a less threatening idea, and a more dignified experience. Death is evidently scary to our culture; how else could it be a punishment for the worst of crimes? I think that the most frightening aspect of death is the promised uncertainty that comes with it, that dreaded moment when you know you are about to die and you don't know what lies in store for you.
On a slightly different note, death and illness don't have to be physical. I would rather be injured physically than emotionally. Diseases such as pride, hate, and laziness are just as contagious and hurtful as a cold or even maybe cancer. Once when I lost a friend (a human, this time) I literally felt like a part of my heart had died, leaving a raw wound that did not have enough emotional white blood cells to clot it properly. Loss and vulnerability festered in the wound, producing bitterness and cynicism. Technically, every moment is like a little death. Who you were a minute ago is dead, because the new experiences in that minute shaped who you are and killed a bit of your youth. The difference between physical death and the kind mentioned above is that you don't have to live with physical death (Redundant, but true).
Casey,
ReplyDeleteI really liked how you began with your tortoise, I thought it was a nice contrasting way to introduce a topic that is so dark and not humorous. Your piece is very well written, and you ask a lot of significant questions that kind of want me to go back and add a couple of things to my post.
Sadly I will report that death is indeed very horrific and scary, more-so than the media portrays. While I appreciate the logic behind some of what you say, I feel like the thing that is truly scary is the state of illness and suffering that comes before dying, something I have unfortunately witnessed first-hand that plays a big role in how I look at things every day.
Wonderful writing,
Evan
Casey,
ReplyDeleteShould have made a separate paragraph for this brilliant sequence, "Technically, every moment is like a little death. Who you were a minute ago is dead, because the new experiences in that minute shaped who you are and killed a bit of your youth. The difference between physical death and the kind mentioned above is that you don't have to live with physical death (Redundant, but true)."
I've thought the first two sentences frequently. But never the third, quite like that, and the parenthetical works well, aesthetically.
The issues of indoctrination (a fine word) that you allude can be complex. All families indoctrinate, and I think its usually better when they have at least some sense of what doctrine they're trying to inculcate. What I'm interested in, in your case, is how these stories shape your family's PRACTICES and MEANINGS around illness and dying. Was there prayer, last-chance attempts to 'save', a sense of "going to a better place", etc? And how you feel about all that, given your partial upbringing in that particular subculture and your (later &/or simultaneous) exposure to the 'dominant' culture.
"I was a very anger-prone child, because I valued justice so highly." This makes me laugh because I feel this is where I currently am in life. So lost and upset because there is so much in-justice in our world and I don't know what to do about it.. anyway.. In one part you state "They always approached serious illness and dying with a level of respect that is typical of our culture." I thought this really began to devuldge into the diffrence and similarities between your family and the dominant social practice. I wish you would have elaborated upon why that respect occurs and how. on a positive note I think you have truly have a beautiful way with words, i enjoy reading what you write.
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