Hospice and Death and Stuff
The other day I wrote an essay about Japanese aesthetics. While doing research for the essay, I discovered the word wabi-sabi (wah-bee sah-bee). Wabi-sabi is centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection which made me think of my own transience and imperfections.
The word not only applies to their aesthetics but also their philosophy. I suppose everyone, if they live long enough, accepts the fact that they themselves are transient, temporary beings. I made my acceptance of this condition when I was about 21 while walking across an A&P parking lot in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I don't believe the time or place or conditions had anything to do with the revelation: it was the Lord's way of saying, “Wake up, Jughead!”
I recently went on hospice. I don't know about you, but when I hear someone is on hospice, I expect his or her death to be imminent. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Kemo Sabe.
The doc, a young and healthy looking fellow, had come to a dead end as far as my health was concerned. He concluded that there was nothing more he could do for me and suggested hospice…end of life care.
We took his advice and signed up with one organization but soon became dissatisfied with that company: we switched to a different group.
My hospice workers visit me about four times a week, and they throw in a social worker and a Catholic deacon occasionally. They're all pleasant and do a nice job. I particularly like the visits from the deacon. I try to keep his mind right.
Although I realize that eventually I'll…what's the word? Oh yeah, die, I sometimes have to remind them not to speak in terms of my passing as imminent. They seem to accept my chastisement well, but I can tell they expect me to fall over at any moment.
The only thing I've done to prepare for my…death, is purchase a plot. I still need to make prearrangements for the funeral, and work with a tombstone guy.
In reading some literature about dying, it is suggested that one mend fences. Why? I'm quite pleased with my designation of “jackass” for some folks, and while I'm thinking about it, what's all this talk about being greeted by family if we go to heaven---not always a good thing.
It's also suggested that you start giving your stuff away. Not a bad thought, but for the most part, I like my stuff and like hanging around with it.
Some folks, including me, think it's healthy to speak of your own death. Linda, my wife, ain't one of them. That conversation ain't gonna happen.
I hope to die gracefully and be a good example for others, but I keep having a gnawing feeling I'll go out screaming.
Long ago I gave up on knowing the truth about the afterlife: I put it in the category of above my pay grade. I remember years ago being a little disturbed by a friend saying that in the end, we get chunked in a hole in the ground: that’s all…party over. Some world religions have little or nothing to say about an afterlife. Others have elaborate beliefs about the afterlife involving reincarnation…I've always found this one attractive---“chunked in a hole”… not very attractive.
As I mentioned, Wabi-sabi incorporates transience and imperfection. Well, I definitely am imperfect. Linda will verify this. However, I'd like to keep my imperfections to myself. If you missed them the first time, too bad.
Although I look at death as being stupid and unnecessary, intellectually I accept that I must die as evidenced by all other humans before me.
I guess we would all like to die---if we must die---with grace and dignity. In my case I expect to die screaming and kicking if I see death approaching---so much for grace and dignity.
enough