Now in my mid-60s, I am mindful that as time moves inexorably on, the deletion of so many long-standing friends is taking over my address book entries. At the moment it seems as if I hear the unwelcome of news of yet another death on a daily basis. Almost none of this is Covid related, yet very few of those I am acquainted with are dying of a long-term illness.
Part of this is my own problem. Throughout my life I always seem to have had close friendships with people who are much older than I am.
A friend in New York, in her 80s and virtually housebound, recently died in a horrendous fire. Since then, having made front page news, Facebook postings have reminded us all just how well regarded she was, and how much she contributed to the wider community, sharing her expertise to enrich the lives of us all.
I also recall, several years ago, attending the funeral of my best friend’s mother, who being a bit of a recluse eventually succumbed to pneumonia, escalated by her standing by an open window in freezing cold weather, because she did not want to be a burden to anyone. We travelled up from Cornwall to Scotland for the funeral, just 8 of us in total. She had outlived all of the other people in her life.
As a regular church goer, I have also remembered that during a morning service the vicar mentioned that later that day he was conducting the funeral of a homeless woman who had no relative or friends. I had no idea who this person was but felt compelled to attend. I just could not bear the thought of someone being sent to meet their maker alone, with no-one to even acknowledge their demise.
I think about my own death quite frequently, and even bought my own coffin (a wicker one) several years ago, because I was fed up with attending funerals at which it was clear that it was a case of let’s just go with the cheapest. Dead or alive, I do care what happens to my body.
One thing I am quite clear about is that I do not want to end my days in the care of strangers, having lost my independence so that I cannot decide what I want to eat and when, for example. I am witnessing so much of this at the moment that it distresses me to think of people I once knew to be vibrant go-getters living out their days at the mercy of others, and thoroughly miserable about it.
While I still have all of my marbles, I have also begun to consider the disbursement of my belongings and have planned the funeral service and the wake too. The way I look at it, it is really the last party I shall attend; I am not putting money on not being ‘up there’ looking down on the proceedings.
None of us know when our last day on earth will be, but I think we owe it to ourselves and our loved ones to at least consider the implications for them. It can be distressing enough to lose a family member, close friend, or colleague, and while we still have breath in our bodies, we can do our bit to help them in coming to terms with the fact that this is the final goodbye.
For the same reason, I believe that whenever we have contact, be it in person, by correspondence, or a ‘phone call, we should, where possible, ensure that it ends on a positive note. It is far better to remember someone with fondness than to be reminded of any friction.
A friend in New York, in her 80s and virtually housebound, recently died in a horrendous fire. Since then, having made front page news, Facebook postings have reminded us all just how well regarded she was, and how much she contributed to the wider community, sharing her expertise to enrich the lives of us all.
I also recall, several years ago, attending the funeral of my best friend’s mother, who being a bit of a recluse eventually succumbed to pneumonia, escalated by her standing by an open window in freezing cold weather, because she did not want to be a burden to anyone. We travelled up from Cornwall to Scotland for the funeral, just 8 of us in total. She had outlived all of the other people in her life.
As a regular church goer, I have also remembered that during a morning service the vicar mentioned that later that day he was conducting the funeral of a homeless woman who had no relative or friends. I had no idea who this person was but felt compelled to attend. I just could not bear the thought of someone being sent to meet their maker alone, with no-one to even acknowledge their demise.
I think about my own death quite frequently, and even bought my own coffin (a wicker one) several years ago, because I was fed up with attending funerals at which it was clear that it was a case of let’s just go with the cheapest. Dead or alive, I do care what happens to my body.
One thing I am quite clear about is that I do not want to end my days in the care of strangers, having lost my independence so that I cannot decide what I want to eat and when, for example. I am witnessing so much of this at the moment that it distresses me to think of people I once knew to be vibrant go-getters living out their days at the mercy of others, and thoroughly miserable about it.
While I still have all of my marbles, I have also begun to consider the disbursement of my belongings and have planned the funeral service and the wake too. The way I look at it, it is really the last party I shall attend; I am not putting money on not being ‘up there’ looking down on the proceedings.
None of us know when our last day on earth will be, but I think we owe it to ourselves and our loved ones to at least consider the implications for them. It can be distressing enough to lose a family member, close friend, or colleague, and while we still have breath in our bodies, we can do our bit to help them in coming to terms with the fact that this is the final goodbye.
For the same reason, I believe that whenever we have contact, be it in person, by correspondence, or a ‘phone call, we should, where possible, ensure that it ends on a positive note. It is far better to remember someone with fondness than to be reminded of any friction.
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