Death
by Elouise
The elephant in the room.
What I don’t want to talk about.
Especially with people I love.
Mortality sounds better.
Not so stark and final.
Wiggle room between now and then.
Abstract and ‘normal’ or
Concrete and truly normal?
Which will it be?
Can we talk about death?
My death?
Your death?
The elephant in the room
roars relentlessly.
It has my reluctant attention.
***
Just over a week ago I felt heavy with discouragement. I wrote at length in my journal. The excerpts below get to the point of this post. The direction above seems to be the only way I can deal with my feeling of being stuck.
…The grief and shock and even horror of what has happened is still creeping up on me. Like flashbacks—especially to the moment I fell and heard my chin hit the pavement. I keep wanting to turn time back—even though I know this is impossible and senseless.
…I feel like a child who needs comfort, and permission to cry and be angry. Not all alone, but with someone who cares about me and won’t try to ‘fix’ me. Someone who won’t just keep reminding me of how grateful I should be that it wasn’t worse. Or that I have insurance. Or that it’s ‘good’ I’m retired. Or one of a thousand ways of blunting the trauma.
…How do I move forward with healing when my heart is breaking? And my body keeps reminding me of how broken it still is?
No pills on earth could possibly help me now.
…Yes, I’m healing. But there’s also this ‘invisible’ damage no doctor can possibly fix. Damage to my psyche, my spirit, my sense of identity, my plans for the immediate future—and a thousand other things that won’t or can’t happen now.
How do I address this healing?
It’s all about not ignoring the damage done. My age won’t let me do that. Only facing into my death will bring clarity about what may or may not happen between now and my death. Refocus my direction and energy. Move me out of feeling stuck, and into new life and hope.
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 June 2016
Cartoon found at looksharp.com
Telling the Truth 
A poignant piece Epouise, a hard topic to talk or think about it,,although inevitable we often think we have unlimited days on tap, it’s when we come to terms and accept it, then the weight lifts and our wings fly like butterflies, light and unburdened. Sending peace and love, hey Lucy…didn’t forget about you…keep,that tick tock rhythm going…thinking of you both, love, Kim
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Elouise….silly iPad….I know your name…apparently iPad likes Epouise better😊
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Hi, Kim! I’m tempted to correct ‘Epouise.’ However, it’s a first time ever spelling of my name, so I’m letting it stay just as is! I see your note about iPad–silly iPad, indeed! Thanks for your comments about the weight lifting and our wings flying like butterflies. Perfect.
Elouise and Elucy
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Hi Elouise…i want you to know you have been, and will remain in my prayers. This is hard. And I wanted to say here too that I’ve been thinking about these things myself recently, and wonder….if it’s true that this whole life is gift – that I’ve done nothing to deserve the gift – that God in his infinite love and generosity just gave me this life to live for a reason known only to Him…and Jesus made it so that my life continues on – in Him – somehow after my physical body gives back the breath it was given – then how can I learn/practice living “in Him” even now? How can I cooperate more with the grace of being transformed “from glory to glory” into the image of Christ (II Cor 3:18)? How am I being called to let go gradually, mercifully, as the Spirit leads, to parts of my identity that are totally tied to this bodily life (not the eternal parts). Can I let go of my plans, in love for Christ, so that God’s plans can be fulfilled in this gift of what I call “my” life? Is this “abiding in the Vine”? I love you.
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Dear Nancy,
Thank you for this comment. It got me thinking.
Letting go is a wonderful image–the only way to prepare for death. A lot seems to be about internal letting go. Still, there is also external letting go of things that suddenly change or that get us off track regarding what really matters.
I see bodily life as part of what really matters. Not because it belongs to us, but because it was fashioned and enlivened by God, part of the full life with which we were gifted–and which will one day be part of a new heaven and a new earth. It isn’t the whole show, but is an indispensable part of our identity, including our identity as followers of Jesus Christ.
That doesn’t mean everything we do in our bodies is indispensable. I think you’re talking about letting go of whatever gets in the way of following Jesus. Yes, our bodies suffer losses that can’t be replaced. At the same time, our changing bodies are part of God’s plan not just for now, but for later. I want to cherish the body I now have, not long for yesterday’s body.
Love and hugs,
Elouise
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HI, Elouise,
So sorry for your fall. I Peter says “…set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed.” It is no fun to be stuck. I know. Praying that you will find peace in the midst of pain, joy in the midst of sorrow and always love – love of the Father but also love from those who love you. Allow yourself to feel. Love you, Anne
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Thank you, Anne, for your comment and for your encouragement, prayers and love. I hear some wonderful phrases from the music we used to sing!
Gratefully,
Elouise
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I believe (speaking my credo) death and wholeness are intricately related. If the steps of the dance move in and out with death, then the hands (ballet) reflect the wholeness of the life. Death grounds us in that reality of baptism, the cleansing water that changes us from who were were to who we are. Who we are is the present, the wholeness that accepts death, that finds community in the body. In communion.
This is holy ground you walk. Blessings and prayers.
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Thank you, David, for your prayers and encouragement. Death is indeed part of the dance and, strangely, part of our grounding in what’s real. I want to live fully in the present, insofar as this is possible. Not anxious about tomorrow, or filled with regrets about yesterday.
Elouise
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Dear Elouise,
I’m sorry what you’re going through is so hard. No doubt about it, it’s just hard. And, it makes sense that it makes you ponder your own mortality. I think that comes partly in being forced into stillness and face to face with life’s fragility.
May this community, at least, not try to fix things, but be willing to sit with you as you grieve your losses, process your thoughts, share your story. May you heal and find strength and restoration. May you see improvement regularly, even if it’s only in tiny, frustrating steps. And may you know you do not walk alone. Ever.
Love, Natalie
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Dear Natalie,
Thank you for your perceptive, encouraging comment. I know it comes from your deep places in your history. Your line about this opportunity to ponder my mortality coming as part of being “forced into stillness and face to face with life’s fragility” is right on target. I’m so grateful to have you as part of this wonderful community.
Love and hugs,
Elouise
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Elouise, I know what you mean about not wanting to talk about the elephant. After I was diagnosed with cancer, I had such extreme anxiety over my health that I felt crippled. I then realized that one day, I’m going to die. Am I ready? I believe I am, but I have some more things to do and I will do them one day at a time, one step at a time.I just hope I get all my yarn knitted up before I go!
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April, I hope you get through all your yarn and anything else on your list–and then get to stay around awhile longer! You’re so correct–talking about death, especially our own deaths, is difficult. Especially when it’s with family members or close friends. Your approach of one day/step at a time is healthy and, for me, grounds me in reality whether I check everything off or not. Thanks so much for sharing your first-hand experience.
Elouise
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My Precious Niece, after following your blog for awhile, I thank the Lord for your friends who share your joys and your sorrows with such good advice and encouragement, including the shared conversations and your wise replies.
The elephant in the room reminds me of the drug advertisement which is such powerful imagery. I’m 85 and sometime ago, the Lord tossed my elephant out of the room similar to Nancy’s. Remember the Lord had Paul write for us God’s purpose for us here on this earth. Most people quote Romans 8:28, but stop short of God’s purpose, verse 29, “to conform us to the image of his son”. I have been telling people, I’m not anxious to go home, but when He calls me, I’ll be glad to go. I want my memorial to be a “Bon Voyage” or “Going Home” celebration. That elephant no longer has any control over me. Also, I’m starting to understand many of Paul’s writing I was previously unable to relate to.
You who are younger, trust your past, present and your future to Him and He will toss that elephant out by the tail and you will be free of many worries. Love, Aunt Leta
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Thanks for this comment, Leta. I find that talking about death takes some of the sting out of it. The elephant is real, but not in control when we’re able to acknowledge it (talk about it)–as I think you also suggesting. Not talking about it gives death (the elephant), I think, more power than it has. I often wish I’d heard my parents talking more about death. It was always one of those off-limits topics. Thanks for your good comments about why we’re here.
Love and hugs,
Elouise
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