Facing death, we often slip into
denial.
Sometimes such denial is tragic. I
remember a friend who had terminal lung disease. Over time the disease left him
constantly out of breath. He was confined to his home, then to his living room chair,
and finally to bed. No doctor offered any hope for healing.
Remarkably, my friend refused to face
his impending death. When I tried to talk about it, he claimed that he wasn’t
worried because he was waiting for a miracle. When I brought up some issues
related to his will, he said, “later." When I said he needed to check into a
hospice, he claimed my lack of faith was going to be the death of him. A few friends
dropped by to pray for his healing and anoint him.
And then, one day, he died.
Now, I don’t want to give the
impression that my friend was an idiot. Death is the last enemy, says the
Apostle Paul (1 Cor. 13:26). It is an especially difficult one to face in your
forties. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross told us long ago that in such circumstances denial
is a natural emotional response.
Still, right to the end, my friend remained
in denial about his impending death. And that was sad on a number of levels. His
affairs were not in order. He didn’t say goodbye to all his friends and family.
He wouldn’t go out in public because he didn’t want to be embarrassed by the
paraphernalia of dying he had to drag along. For months, he isolated himself
from the world.
My friend was an extreme case. The
truth, however, is that most of us also deny death, often in mundane and
thoughtless ways. Euphemisms such as “passing” and “no longer with us,” are
used to get around mentioning death. Many of us stubbornly refuse to make
wills, take out life insurance, prepare Advance Health Care Directives, or name
someone to have power of attorney. We don’t have conversations with loved ones
about end-of-life health care or financial issues. We don’t take children to
funerals for fear of upsetting them. And, denial of death sometimes means
putting more emphasis on praying for a miracle than on praying for courage or
comfort.
I’ve also noticed that people have begun
speaking of funerals as “celebrations of life.” Family members will sometimes
say that, “You know, Joe wouldn’t want us to be sad. He wants us to be happy.”
Of course, when an elderly person
who has suffered finally dies, it is natural that we are relieved that the
suffering is over. At the same time, even the death of elderly people robs us
of their company, their wisdom, and often, their love. To celebrate a life-well-lived
at a funeral is fine; but this celebration should not come at the cost of
giving ample opportunity for those who mourn to weep.
Of course, denial shields us from
the inevitable. Denial means never having to think about the pain or
circumstances that might accompany our own end. But denial does so in the
manner of a narcotic that sends us on a trip to Never Never Land.
Denial also robs us of our ability
to finish well, to care properly for our loved ones, and to deal with our own
hopes and fears. Denial robs us, in other words, of the ability to fully live the
time we have left by leaving a good part of that time in shadows we are too
afraid to explore.
Finally, denial even robs us of solace,
of what Canadian composer Bruce Cockburn, in his song, “Wondering Where the
Lions Are” describes as, “thinking about eternity.” A time, hopes Cockburn,
when perhaps even “some kind of ecstasy” will get ahold of us.
(Do you have an example of denying death? What do you think? Leave a response!)
