A whole lotta dyin’ goin’ on

gravesI’ve been contemplating death a lot lately. I’m sure it’s because in the past six months, five people I know have died—four of them younger than 50. All but one died of cancer.

Also I have a close friend in the U.S. who is tired of his battle with cancer, now in its second decade, and who has decided to stop treatment. He anticipates the last day of June will be his last day on Earth, although it would be more like him to stick around for the Fourth of July fireworks.

In my attempt to reconcile this feeling of being pelted by death as if it were a barrage of rubber bullets, I’ve turned to the writings and the videos of people who are dying or in the “death industry.” I’m hoping to educate myself to feel more positive about aging and the illnesses that lead to what the medical profession calls “end of life.”

An acclaimed advertising executive, Mike Hughes, has cancer and was told in January that he had two weeks to live, but he’s still chugging along. His wife, Ginny, has cancer, too, but on May 1, she got word that she is in complete remission. Hughes is blogging throughout his final days.

He says: “To me the cancer is boring. The pills, the treatments, the routines, the scans, the numbers—I can’t concentrate on them any more than I can concentrate on the details of a legal contract or an insurance form. … Dying, on the other hand, is endlessly interesting. Partly because it’s scary and mysterious, of course, but it’s more than that. … Men and women—you and I—are literally irreplaceable. Future generations may succeed us, but they won’t leave the same footprints.”

That’s comforting. As our bodies begin to betray whatever vital, energetic image we hold of ourselves, we start to wonder if we’re also losing relevance. At least I do, sometimes, especially when I realize that everyone who’s doing the work I used to do is in their 20s. To think of myself as irreplaceable helps.

While I’ve come across a few people who “thank” their illnesses for slowing them down and helping them to set priorities, I can’t say I’m convinced that any illness is a blessing any more than aging is. (As blogger Hughes says, “Aging. Hate it, hate it, hate it.”)

Illness seems like the scary thing about aging, not death. Death ends illness. Hell, it ends aging! I believe it does not end relationships, but it certainly changes them.

Death means independence and the opportunity to start afresh (though what fresh thing we’re starting remains a mystery; perhaps whatever you believe will happen is what happens).

Ironically, independence-oriented American society focuses very little on death (funeral parlors and Hallmark cards being about the only visible reminders) and even less on dying (though the TV series “Six Feet Under” did very well in the ratings).

Lately it’s young women who are bringing up the subject of death and saying hey, we’re all going there, so let’s read the guidebook. Click here to read about the Death-Positive Movement  and to access truly fascinating videos by Caitlin Doughty, whose “Ask a Mortician” series is popular on YouTube.

I find it refreshing to contemplate death—mostly my own, as I feel sad when I think of losing someone I love. It makes me think twice about whining when I’m stopped short by a muscle cramp or when I’m breathing hard at the top of the third flight of stairs. It makes me appreciate the life that I have, in the body I have, bumping up against all the other lives and bodies roaming my part of the Earth and the Internet.

Mike Hughes says it best in his blog: “Life is measured only superficially by heart-beats, breaths and brain waves. Life is doing. It’s learning and engaging and it’s thinking.” Amen to that. While there’s a whole lotta dyin’ goin’ on lately, the rest of us have got a lotta livin’ to do, creaky bones and all.

Written in loving memory of Laurie Clark, Richard Peterson, Paul Lea, Mike Feltault, and Joyous Heart, none of whom got to be old this time around.

Anne Nicolai  is an American writer and editor living in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.