It's a 'Mr Death' or something. He's come about the reaping?

It's a funny old thing death. In my life I've had friends who've lost relatives and it's been sad and I've felt for them. I think I was about 10 when my grandfather died but all I really remember is the pain on his face when I saw him in hospital and the bitching that went on at his wake between his wife and her friends.

I think about death a lot. What it would be like to lose someone I loved, how people are dying all the time across the world for thousands if not millions of reasons, what happens after death, etc etc.

My step father died 2 weeks ago. Him and my mum were together for 12 years and married for about 4 of those years. I never referred to him as my stepdad, it was only when he was lying unconscious in hospital that I did simply for ease of explanation. He was always just Ian. Someone I would get stoned with and we'd talk about the meaning of life. He was a pompous git with a history of unpleasant criminal activity and over the last few years my opinion of him went slowly down.

But this post isn't about him, it's about the surreal events that surround death. Any Buddhist text will say that the only permanent thing in life is death. It's an absolute. And yet, it's still such a shock, we can never truly prepare ourselves for it, it doesn't make any sense. Ian was diabetic, he hated food and rarely ate, he smoked and every cup of coffee he drank was made with cream and sugar. He never looked after himself, he never let my mum look after him, so it seemed kinda strange that when he died at 55 my mum was saying 'it wasn't fair, why wasn't he given a chance to change?' But I suppose it was fair, he didn't look after himself, there were signs but he just didn't care enough about himself. She knows that, but when someone simply isn't there anymore of course it seems unfair. Where has he gone? Was it selfish of him to let people love him and then to give them his early death? We stayed with him for a week while he lay unconscious in hospital, he had a stroke followed by a heart attack, it left him brain damaged and paralized, they would have removed his arm if they thought he had any chance of survival, but they never did. We stayed with his frail, empty yellow body while his heart was kept beating by a machine, and while his life signs were read by other machines (no sign of the machine that goes 'bing' though, he would've liked that. Hell, I would've liked that!) It's such an odd thing to watch a dying man have so much money and care spent on him. 24 hour attention from the nurses, feeding, washing, removal of urine! (he certainly would've loved all that! ) Very, very surreal to see so much care for one dying when so many living don't experience the same. Shit, I know this is a post about death an' all but I didn't wanna get morid!

I guess as always there are lessons to be learned. Not taking things for granted, making the most of your life, taking care of and believing in yourself. At the funeral one of his friends said that he was really into the title of that book 'Feel the fear and do it anyway'. I don't think he ever practised the idea, but it's certainly a principle that I feel compelled to live by.

Anyway, just to brighten things up a bit:

ANGELA: This is Mr. Death. [spooky music] Well, do get Mr. Death a drink, darling.
GEOFFREY: Uh, yes.
HOWARD: Mmm.
ANGELA: Mr. Death is a reaper.
GRIM REAPER: The Grim Reaper.
ANGELA: Hardly surprising, in this weather. Ha ha ha.
EVERYONE: [laughing]
HOWARD: So, you still, uh, reap around here, do you, Mr. Death?
GRIM REAPER: I am the Grim Reaper.

 

i never really think about me dieing...i do however worry that when ever a bad word goes between me and a loved one that i will never see them again... so i try my hardest never to let me part ways with anyone on really bad terms.

My ex boyfriend Sturart was Australian. He left Australia to live here and with leaving australia he left a lot of unfinished buisness behind. He had fallen out with his best friend over his best friends little sister.... he'd told stuart he hated him and would kill him if he ever saw him again.... but this was all said out of anger i feel. Anyway just before i met stuart his best friend had an accident driving his car both him and his sister were in the car. He dies. She was ok. All i remember is how much it ate up at Stuart that they had parted in such a way, that he would never get the chance to say sorry to each other.

i cant comprehend not having people im really close to around. Ive known many people who have died from carious things, be them grandparends step grandparents, family friends. Some have dies very young, some have died very own... some have been natura causes some have been from drugs or suicide. But none of these people i have truely known or been close to in any way. The closest one i guess was my step grandpa who died just befroe christmas... but the odd thing isnt that hes not here anymore its how much grandma relys on us now. no one wants to let her go anywhere on her own so shes being juggled between the 3 kids.

 

Aye, 'tis from the Meaning Of Life. Before I started the post I found the script with Mr Death in for a title and ending up in stitches after reading the whole thing, had to sober myself up for the sombreness of the post.

Yeah, I'm the same. It's difficult sometimes to find the balance between being morbid and er, not! To be aware that absolutely anything can happen at any time but to not let that control you. I suppose that although we all know death is out there, not thinking about it is our mind's way of letting us live fully. I think that makes sense.

Show me a funeral that isn't surreal! Ian had a humanist service which was really nice (although why do the people that do these things have the droniest of voices?!?) I found it interesting to see how different people reacted. The people that knew him but disliked him were in pieces! My brother's stomach growling during the one minute silence........and Monty Python popping into my head and willing me to laugh! But the most surreal is the coffin. That person is physically in that box. That's such a strange notion to me, he's lying in the box but he isn't there, wtf? I don't think I'd want that when I die. But at the same time, I can understand the closure (he was cremated) the body burns and he really has gone, that was the moment I had to look away and get out of there. And it's watching the ones really close to him. My mum, his mum, his sisters. All devasted. My sister in pieces because my mum's in pieces, it's like a gathering of tears and red noses.

Visiting the crematorian the next day was amazing. The Gardens of Rest. They were beautiful, full of trees, a pond, waterfalls and windchimes everywhere! I never realised that people had their ashes buried. I never realised that people left things other than flowers. This place was really magical. People had left little handcrafted objects; dragonflies and fairies, woven willow. There were plaques of green men, the sun and the moon. Infact, there was so much stuff I can't even remember it all but it really touched me. *Sigh* I'm now wondering if I dreamt it!

 

*hugs sammy*


wel... death, your right we are never prepared for it no matter how much we would like to think we are. i think about death a lot, not in an obsessed cultist way might i add, but just contemplating imperminance. sometimes i think i have it sorted, that i will be alright with it, that i can smile when someone i love dies, but sometimes it scares me shitless.
6 years ago when i was, *does the math*, 12 a good friend of mine died at the age of 17. i couldn't deal with it but had to as i was caught up in the aftermath of her life-picking up the pieces that no one else would.(i won't go into details, those who know me will prolly know what im referring to). and i never dealt with it, not then anyways. only now can i look at teh situation and laugh and remember her life, her laugh and how she loved. but at the time? no way!
i have another friend who has cystic fibrocious, he is 21 now and ive known him since i was 4. we were used to him taking 100's of pills when he ate and having physio, which used to scare the life out of me-but you do get used to it after some time. we knew he would die early but he was still living-playing football, running around, having a laugh. now? well now hes on oxygen 24/7, has a perminant needle into his heart as his veins won't allow a line in anymore( hes also got a massive phobia of needles) and basically he doesn't have long left to live at all. am i prepared for his death? ive known about it long enough but no im not prepared at all. i can not image a life without him being there, not well, still ill but still alive. when it happens i will be in shock i know i will be, itll be awful for our family and thiers, as we are so close. but theres nothing i can do. we do speak about it and he believes that nothing happens once you die, your dead and thats it, but hes not scared, well at least he doesn't show it to anyone, he is not a victim. in a way that makes it easier but also harder-i can't explain.
Ive always tried-since mandy my friend died-to tell everyone how i feel about them all the time, just in case. i couldn't handle someone not knowing how i felt, like i never knew with mandy-there was so much i never knew.
on another note ive always told my dad that when he dies-if its before me that i will smile and have a chuckle to myself. and i know i will. and thats alright. we are all going to die anyway right? from this knowledge shoudln't we moarn when a baby is born as we know this is their destiny?
blah blah blah...sorry random thoughts....
namaste
x x x

 

It's funny don't you think, that the person (your friend) has probably dealt with the knowledge of his own death and yet, it's everyone else who has problems dealing with it? It's those who're left behind.......we're still here but they've gone, and there's just this empty space *must not burst into Phil Collins song* and I guess over time we fill that space with our memories of them, and that's what ultimately keeps them alive in our hearts.

 

death isnt something i like to think about, i get paraniod that theres nothing after and im just going to end, thats nasty. i never really dealt with it well when i was young - i wsa good friends with a lovely old lady across the road when i was young and when she dies the people who moved into her house covered her lovely garden with concrete and i cried because she couldt see her flowers from heaven what a sap eh


ive only just found out recently that a boy who i grew up with dies of a brain tumor (bcause it was inadequatly operated on when he was a child ) and i found it odd that i'd not known for all those years that he had been dead - but in a way i was kind of happy for him becasue he had such a miserable life.

i dont like this thought.... im going to go and watch late night poker!!

 

I think about it too much as well. I have since I was young. Most people say that they've thought about their own death. I don't believe most people really have. They haven't really comprehended it. They hide behind one religious/spiritual belief or other.

I don't know how I'll handle my parents dying. I'm not sure how I'll get thru that.

Although, the other night I got stoned and looked at the stars on a clear night and it seemed like everything would be okay.

 

I have moments like that, I could be stargazing or watching the sun rise or just feeling good and suddenly there's just the bigger picture and I know that everything will be as it should. Hippy moments. They're great

 

Yeah, exactly!!! Aren't those moments amazing? I always feel embarrassed talking about them because they sound like hippy cliches when you say them out loud. But those moments are magic!!

 

Odd thing, death. I went to a funeral last week. It was a fairly distant family member (a great aunt) who I hadn't seen for several years. But I have fond memories of her from all throughout my childhood and the few times I've seen her at weddings and funerals as an adult. It was also the first burial I've ever been to, having only ever been to a crematorium before.

Burials are surreal. In the balmy September breeze surrounded by trees and headstones and the ever present dull roar of traffic, it was a nice way to stand remembering my "Aunty Rita" as we used to call her. I found my own way of remembering her far more moving and intimate and personal than the dully formulaic words of the Christian ceremony. All through the church service I was trying to remember her as I'd known her, trying to block out the faintly distasteful notion of Jesus being woken from the dead. Focusing on the words of William Blake in the hymn "Jerusalem" and blocking out the Christian Church's adoption and co-option of this anti-establishment parable. The echo of sniffles behind me as over the church's crackly PA, a tango and a foxtrot were played in memory of this one-time ballroom-dancing aunty.

As the coffin went down, aided by a man with natty sideburns, part of it got caught on the side of the grave. Only with some swift flower-grabbing and nudging did they manage to get it down smoothly without losing all the flowers off the top of it. The thought of a body lying rotting has always disgusted me ever since I first read Shakespeare's Sonnets with their constant morbid reiteration of the idea of being eaten by worms. But this first burial didn't seem so bad. What difference does it make what happens to your body when it's no longer you? Whether you become a pile of ash and a column of smoke or just rot slowly in a box? I can't think of much difference. Apart from the possibility of being dug up by the 31st century's answer to Tony Robinson.

Yeah, I want to be cremated.

 

it wont help you know. last year i myself dug up a bronze age cremation burial.....

we'll still find you in the end mawhahahahahahahah. grave robbers the lot of us