Here's the thing about death; it's the last taboo topic in our culture. It's the only thing I can think of that we do not talk about. And it is the onlything guaranteed to be a part of
our lives.
It's never easy to face death or experience grief over someone else's death. But I am a firm believer that we make it even worse on ourselves by deep-seated denial and avoidance of the reality that death is a part of life
I get it; it's terrifying to think about what might or might not happen when life as we know it ends. And I know (oh, I know) that a lot of people are not gracious in sharing their views on the subject.
But pretending it will never happen to us only makes us more ill-prepared for when it does.
After three years of volunteering and training through a hospice care agency, I have learned tools and language that have taken a layer of anxiety off of this conversation. But even still, as I wrestle with the death of a friend last week, the husband of a delightful decade-long friend, I know how inadequate words are; I understand that theoretics fail to keep us afloat.
What does keep us alive, then? Community and conversation. These are the places I find and re-find hope.
So let's find some friends who are safe*, and let's talk about the things that matter most. Like life and love and happiness, and then the Holy Ghost.**
And if, like me, you find yourself unsettled and uncertain about how, precisely death and grief are to be faced, then let's talk about that.
* I'm reminded that many people may not have this in their life at the moment. This is not how life is meant to be; and I say this, not to discourage you, but to encourage you to keep trying, to reach out and find and cultivate friendships in which we give and take and learn what love is.
** That's from Audio Adrenaline's The Houseplant Song, and is for anyone who was a church teenager in 1999.
It's never easy to face death or experience grief over someone else's death. But I am a firm believer that we make it even worse on ourselves by deep-seated denial and avoidance of the reality that death is a part of life
I get it; it's terrifying to think about what might or might not happen when life as we know it ends. And I know (oh, I know) that a lot of people are not gracious in sharing their views on the subject.
But pretending it will never happen to us only makes us more ill-prepared for when it does.
After three years of volunteering and training through a hospice care agency, I have learned tools and language that have taken a layer of anxiety off of this conversation. But even still, as I wrestle with the death of a friend last week, the husband of a delightful decade-long friend, I know how inadequate words are; I understand that theoretics fail to keep us afloat.
What does keep us alive, then? Community and conversation. These are the places I find and re-find hope.
So let's find some friends who are safe*, and let's talk about the things that matter most. Like life and love and happiness, and then the Holy Ghost.**
And if, like me, you find yourself unsettled and uncertain about how, precisely death and grief are to be faced, then let's talk about that.
* I'm reminded that many people may not have this in their life at the moment. This is not how life is meant to be; and I say this, not to discourage you, but to encourage you to keep trying, to reach out and find and cultivate friendships in which we give and take and learn what love is.
** That's from Audio Adrenaline's The Houseplant Song, and is for anyone who was a church teenager in 1999.
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