We have forgotten the language of death. It is a sublanguage really, for death is not separate from life. But we have forgotten that too, in our efforts to prolong the human form at all costs.
Some understand. When you have walked the edges either alone or alongside another, it becomes painfully or joyously - or both - clear that death is a soft and hazy language. It is not crisp or precise and you will have to stand very still and cock your ear on regular occasion.
"Check on the strong ones," we say. Do you hear the precision? As if we have the ability to determine the course of another. In that regard we have forgotten - yet more forgetting - the regularity of human connection. Relationships have a constancy to them, and a trust. The trust is of self and the other. The mix of the two allows for pain, both ours and theirs. In the haze we are able to release.
Non attachment is a concept that has made its way into our everyday language. Everything is coming to go, we are reminded if we take time for our psyche. Any internal protests offer us our work, speak of our traumas and unmet needs.
And then death surfaces. Terminal diagnoses. Fatal accidents. Suicide. We reach for the rope of straight lines to make sense of it all, as if that were possible in the after times.
Do you have a will? An advanced care plan? Have you spoken with loves ones - friends or family - about your view of death and wishes for your end of life? Have you taken the time to ponder this concept as it relates to your unique experience of living?
In a world that elevates the value of altruism - of what we give to others - one can get lost in pondering how death will impact those you leave behind. Some make their decisions solely in this regard. Others - with reflection or experience or both - are unapologetic about what death will mean and how it will play out for them.
Assisted death - euthanasia - assisted suicide - pick your term - it requires one to engage with the sublanguage of death. The terms reflect the laws of individual countries, but they also reflect individual beliefs. In Canada our legal term is assisted death, which one will use if they support the concept, and more often than not, avoid if they are opposed.
Perhaps because it is a relatively new law, we have wrapped assisted death with the tidy bow of dignity. For those that support it, there is the opportunity to die with dignity and some element of control beyond the boundaries our bodies impose. There are many reasons one might oppose assisted death, including religious beliefs or strong convictions regarding palliative care.
Insert pandemic. We abdicated control of our bodies to an unknown virus and we did so without the sublanguage of death. We experienced a collective trauma and laid bare all of the ways that we no longer care for one another within our societies. Whether you believe Covid19 remains a pandemic or has become endemic, it is unlikely you have avoided some layer of the fear that took hold in early 2020.
Loss of control, collective trauma, and fear leave little room for dignity. But what they do allow is a conversation about the complexity of death, if we are willing to have it. They allow us to reach back into a language that is in our DNA, from a time when death was an overt part of life and we spoke its subtleties.
It frustrates and saddens me to see the degree of fear that is reflected in current public dialogue regarding assisted death. It's not that I need to shift the opinions of those who oppose it; they are entitled. It is that the sublanguage is missing.
Acknowledging that a law predominates in the application of Medical Assistance in Dying (MaiD) and that protocols have grown since 2016, it has been my experience that assessors and providers have those complex conversations about death - with themselves, each other, and their patients. Outside of patient confidentiality those conversations are not hidden, but there is also an awareness that without context, the language will be foreign and jarring.
The MAiD assessors and providers I have met both personally and in my health advocacy work remind me very much of abortion providers; they have a deep conviction in their work. Perhaps that is why we don't see more of them stepping up to soothe public fears; their focus is on the needs of the patient. Far from negating concepts such as the Social Determinants of Health (SDOH), MAiD assessors and providers are exploring such concepts as they actively apply in the life of the individuals for whom they care. They aren't afraid to have real conversations; they speak the sublanguage.
So why am I writing this piece? Because I feel strongly that if we could have more social conversations about what death means in our individual lives . . . well I think a lot of things would shift if we were able to do as such.
If you are not familiar with my story, I will simply note that my second husband chose an assisted death. Each year on the day that marks his passage, I invite those around me to take some time to talk about death - with themselves, ones they love, or more socially. I offer you that invitation as I round off. If you feel so inclined, I would be honoured to hear about what you discover.
I totally agree. More dialogue, more space for grief and it’s liminality in Life
Thanks for this. 🖤