The slow deaths spread the suffering out for years and the grief still hits after. I have been through a few of those as well as quick ones. I want quick.
As for funerals, I go to lots of them. I belong to Blue Star Mothers, an organization of military moms, and we attend funerals for active duty deaths. Combat deaths get into newspapers, flags line the streets, and the whole community shows up. PTSD suicides are usually poorly attended except for fellow military members. I have had mothers cling to me for comfort as if they had known me all their lives. The other most common cause of death is training accidents with other accidents and natural deaths coming in last. You are 100% right about people appreciating everyone who shows up to a funeral.
My funeral will likely be poorly attended as I have moved around too much. I want to be buried unembalmed in an eco cemetery where I can just rot.
I have attended few weddings and I never had one. As a 3rd generation eloper it was not important to me.
I have almost made it to 60, just 4 months to go, and I am in excellent health. Many more years to come.
I think the author is underestimated the amount of pain a slow death brings to the caregivers. Having lived through a cancer death on the care giving side, there is nothing I would want less for my loved ones than to have to care for me for 1 or 2 years as I slowly decay. And, as you say, it's not like the grief goes away, it just hits you afterwards, just the same. But it's also compounded by you being tired, mentally and physically from having cared for an adult as he/she was a newborn.
Back in the day when I was home with the baby and watched Oprah and Maury and Judge Judy out of sheer boredom, there was one Oprah show that really hit home. It was a follow-up to a previous show where Dr. Phil had been counseling couples in rocky marriages, and the follow-up was mostly, "So glad we did this, now we're happier than ever." But one woman said her husband one morning went to work and never came back; he got killed in a car accident. She said she was so glad that she sent him off that morning with a kiss and an "I love you." That always stuck with me, so I've developed that same stoic mindset you mentioned—to always imagine this might be the last time I see or talk to someone and not to leave things off in anger and resentment.
You're probably right about the slow vs. quick exit—the former is kinder for those left behind. I used to pray for a brain aneurysm, but not so sure anymore. My uncle died of one in his 50s; one minute, he was tinkering with his car in the driveway, the next he'd dropped dead, just like that. Great for him, probably not so great for his family. I keep taking half-assed steps toward writing a will, but I hate, hate, hate red tape and filling out forms. I'll probably die without leaving one, but I do feel a bit guilty about it. Great post, as always, and lots of food for thought.
Don't bother with any funeral. Donate your body to medical science. Useful and really cheap. My parents died this year and it cost me a total of €500 in flat packed coffins. We get the ashes back in 3 years time and we can have some sort of event then.
Not sure if this is serious or tongue in cheek. Death at any age is tragic. We lost a nephew at age 29 to an unusual accident. It was devastating to say the least and is the reason hubby and I say "I love you" whenever we are saying goodbye. But to say you want cancer? I have seen my mother suffer horribly the last 2 months of her life because of cancer. My sister is currently in remission. These are only two examples of the many I can give. My father died from Alzheimer's, and it was a blessing when he finally died. I had an aunt who died peacefully in her sleep at age 99. My husband's aunt died in her 80's while sitting in a chair reading a book. Sad as we were EVERYONE said the same thing, "at least they didn't suffer. That's how I want to go." The quick, tragic deaths of younger people feel hard because we think in terms of what we and they will miss because they aren't here. The older you get hopefully the more happy memories people have of you to help comfort them.
When my mom was dying of cancer the two things she made me promise were, 1) make a will...now!! and 2) to take good care of my two (now five) kids. I did them both. They've turned into kind, hardworking adults and I'm glad that, with assets in a few different places, they shouldn't have any trouble sorting my affairs out after I'm gone.
On another note, the wife of an acquaintance died suddenly of an aneurysm at 55. When her teenage boys looked through her phone they found she had been having a long running affair. It devastated the husband and kids left behind and totally changed their memories of her. Not sure what to say about that other than either be honest or very, very careful how you hide things.
Here is how you know you are reading a great writer: If the essay you are reading is about death, yet the line 'I mean, things can’t get any worse for my anus than they already are' seamlessly fits into the flow of the piece, you are in the presence of greatness.
The slow deaths spread the suffering out for years and the grief still hits after. I have been through a few of those as well as quick ones. I want quick.
As for funerals, I go to lots of them. I belong to Blue Star Mothers, an organization of military moms, and we attend funerals for active duty deaths. Combat deaths get into newspapers, flags line the streets, and the whole community shows up. PTSD suicides are usually poorly attended except for fellow military members. I have had mothers cling to me for comfort as if they had known me all their lives. The other most common cause of death is training accidents with other accidents and natural deaths coming in last. You are 100% right about people appreciating everyone who shows up to a funeral.
My funeral will likely be poorly attended as I have moved around too much. I want to be buried unembalmed in an eco cemetery where I can just rot.
I have attended few weddings and I never had one. As a 3rd generation eloper it was not important to me.
I have almost made it to 60, just 4 months to go, and I am in excellent health. Many more years to come.
I think the author is underestimated the amount of pain a slow death brings to the caregivers. Having lived through a cancer death on the care giving side, there is nothing I would want less for my loved ones than to have to care for me for 1 or 2 years as I slowly decay. And, as you say, it's not like the grief goes away, it just hits you afterwards, just the same. But it's also compounded by you being tired, mentally and physically from having cared for an adult as he/she was a newborn.
Back in the day when I was home with the baby and watched Oprah and Maury and Judge Judy out of sheer boredom, there was one Oprah show that really hit home. It was a follow-up to a previous show where Dr. Phil had been counseling couples in rocky marriages, and the follow-up was mostly, "So glad we did this, now we're happier than ever." But one woman said her husband one morning went to work and never came back; he got killed in a car accident. She said she was so glad that she sent him off that morning with a kiss and an "I love you." That always stuck with me, so I've developed that same stoic mindset you mentioned—to always imagine this might be the last time I see or talk to someone and not to leave things off in anger and resentment.
You're probably right about the slow vs. quick exit—the former is kinder for those left behind. I used to pray for a brain aneurysm, but not so sure anymore. My uncle died of one in his 50s; one minute, he was tinkering with his car in the driveway, the next he'd dropped dead, just like that. Great for him, probably not so great for his family. I keep taking half-assed steps toward writing a will, but I hate, hate, hate red tape and filling out forms. I'll probably die without leaving one, but I do feel a bit guilty about it. Great post, as always, and lots of food for thought.
Don't bother with any funeral. Donate your body to medical science. Useful and really cheap. My parents died this year and it cost me a total of €500 in flat packed coffins. We get the ashes back in 3 years time and we can have some sort of event then.
Not sure if this is serious or tongue in cheek. Death at any age is tragic. We lost a nephew at age 29 to an unusual accident. It was devastating to say the least and is the reason hubby and I say "I love you" whenever we are saying goodbye. But to say you want cancer? I have seen my mother suffer horribly the last 2 months of her life because of cancer. My sister is currently in remission. These are only two examples of the many I can give. My father died from Alzheimer's, and it was a blessing when he finally died. I had an aunt who died peacefully in her sleep at age 99. My husband's aunt died in her 80's while sitting in a chair reading a book. Sad as we were EVERYONE said the same thing, "at least they didn't suffer. That's how I want to go." The quick, tragic deaths of younger people feel hard because we think in terms of what we and they will miss because they aren't here. The older you get hopefully the more happy memories people have of you to help comfort them.
loved it as always Jared!
Excellent post Jared. Pithy, witty and wise.
Thank you for making me laugh while I wait for my cancer treatment.
When my mom was dying of cancer the two things she made me promise were, 1) make a will...now!! and 2) to take good care of my two (now five) kids. I did them both. They've turned into kind, hardworking adults and I'm glad that, with assets in a few different places, they shouldn't have any trouble sorting my affairs out after I'm gone.
On another note, the wife of an acquaintance died suddenly of an aneurysm at 55. When her teenage boys looked through her phone they found she had been having a long running affair. It devastated the husband and kids left behind and totally changed their memories of her. Not sure what to say about that other than either be honest or very, very careful how you hide things.
yeah yeah yeah
You said pet deaths are harder than people. Pro slow painful deaths. Well, you ain’t boring.
Here is how you know you are reading a great writer: If the essay you are reading is about death, yet the line 'I mean, things can’t get any worse for my anus than they already are' seamlessly fits into the flow of the piece, you are in the presence of greatness.
That's your free pro tip for the day:)