Facing up to death and dying

A couple of weeks ago, the ever wise, Julie Bentley wrote a blog about the end of life https://juliebentley1969.wixsite.com/website/post/thinking-about-the-end-of-life, and why we need to talk about illness, the end of life, death and dying. 

Unsurprisingly given how wise Julie is and that we share a lot of values, I completely agree. My brother died 5 years ago, and I was surprised just how hard some people still find it to talk about death, about dying and about grief. 

When Andrew died lots of people acknowledged his death, asked questions, asked me how I was, and shared their own personal experiences. There was also a lot of silence or skirting around the issue. Other folk seemed to want to make it better with warm and incredibly well meaning platitudes: I was regularly told 'he wouldn't want you to be sad' or 'at least he isn't hurting now'.  I was (and still am) sad, and I am glad he isn't hurting any longer, but it still hurts. Few people seemed comfortable sitting with the loss and pain.

As a family we miss Andrew a lot. And we name it. We talk about him often and we reminisce hard.  

Last week we learned that Mum is in the end stages of her life. She has been diagnosed with an advanced stage cancer which has spread rapidly. We have been told she has months to live. The devastating reality of this is still sinking in. 

Everyone will deal with these types of situations differently, but unlike the rituals that mark the beginning of life, there is much less talked about living well through the end stages of life. The stigma and silence around death and dying allows fear - and sometimes shame - to fester, It risks us failing to create good endings where we can. 

Truth is I am really scared and my heart hurts hard. 

And I am also grateful for the years we have had so far, as well as the time - however long or short - that is yet to come. I am grateful I have always felt and known Mum's love. I know that is a privilege and it is special. I am grateful for her guidance and encouragement that has helped me to this point in my life, and I know will guide me long after she has died.

I am also thankful that we had a warning that this is the end stage. We have the opportunity to redraw our priorities and create opportunities to sit together, remember together, laugh together and to talk about our fears and hopes and to cry together.  We have planned some trips for the next few weeks, and if Mum feels well enough and wants to do more after those we will plan some more.  

Most of all we have the chance to make sure Mum knows how much she is loved, and we can hold a mirror up so she knows without doubt the indelible footprints she has left on so many people's lives. That is a gift.  

So we are squaring up to and talking about her death, not because it is a fight or a battle with cancer, it isn't, but because if we don't talk about it, we - Mum, Dad, our family and friends - won't make this final chapter as good as it can be. The end of life is as valuable and important as the beginning of life, even if as a society we are as not comfortable with it as we need to be yet.  

I have loads of different feelings right now. I am at once a frightened child and a responsible middle aged adult. Most of all I am determined to do all I can to ensure the rest of Mum's life is filled with love, joy and laughter; and all the time respecting the space my parents will need as partners of 58 or so years.

I am sure I (we) will get some things wrong. We have acknowledged that and agreed to muddle through together as best we can.

I could bumble on but I don't really know much with enormous clarity at the moment. However I do know this: we have to get better at talking about and celebrating the end of life as much as we do the beginning, and if I can use my experiences to help do that in any way I will.