letting go

Dying isn't easy. Our bodies were designed to stay alive but will inevitably fail and our souls were created to live on, with or without the mortal body.

At the moment of conception a soul is wrapped up in a blanket of the physical. As the cells multiply attachment is born. The soul clings to those blanket fibres with determination. Once birthing is achieved, the physical bond to the body is reinforced through the senses: feeling the pleasure of a mother's gentle touch, seeing the wonder in the eyes of a loving father, tasting the warm nourishment of milk, smelling the familiar smell of home, and hearing the sweet sound of a whispered lullaby. In healthy humans these developmental events occur naturally, with or without our permission or guidance.

Illustrations © Barbara J Holzapfel

The relationship between a soul and a physical body is one of absolute commitment, through thick and thin.. 'til death do us part. However at some point that relationship ends. One or the other is done, finished, and ready to terminate the relationship. Leading up to this point both parties struggle to hang on. But at the final point of death the letting go of each other is a mutual agreement. A collective decision is made and both parties move on in peace.

ordinary

Some years ago, during a weekend artist's retreat, I was startled out of a very focused examination of a glass vase placed at the centre of our large, circular dining room table. My friend sitting across the broad expanse of bowls and platters thought I'd had a stroke or other cognitive event as I was in an unsettling trance in the midst of animated conversation. Since then I've noticed that I frequently drift off while eye-balling a potential drawing or painting. In those semi-comatose moments I'm mentally measuring the shapes, playing with the colours, and following the lines. Noticing potential subjects, often very ordinary subjects, for art's sake is one of the perks of being an artist. It allows us to soak up the details of life 'normal' folks may miss.

In the blog, Dying Man's Daily Journal writer Bill Howdle shares his journey of living with a terminal illness. Over half a million readers benefit from his generous personal contribution to the planetary conversation around death and dying and often submit their own experiences. I was recently touched by one reader contribution. In her letter she shared a very tender memory of one of her teacher's who had recently lost her husband suddenly to a heart attack. It went like this..

Class is over, I would like to share with all of you, a thought that is unrelated to class, but which I feel is very important. Each of us is put here on earth to learn, share, love, appreciate and give of ourselves. None of us knows when this fantastic experience will end. It can be taken away at any moment. Perhaps this is the power's way of telling us that we must make the most out of every single day."

Illustrations © Barbara J Holzapfel

Her eyes, beginning to water, she went on, "So I would like you all to make me a promise. From now on, on your way to school, or on your way home, find something beautiful to notice. It doesn't have to be something you see, it could be a scent, perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting out of someone's house, or it could be the sound of the breeze slightly rustling the leaves in the trees, or the way the morning light catch one autumn leaf as it falls gently to the ground.

Please look for these things, and cherish them. For, although it may sound trite to some, these things are the 'stuff' of life. The little things we are put here on earth to enjoy. The things we often take for granted."






The class was completely quiet. We all picked up our books and filed out of the room silently. That afternoon, I noticed more things on my way home from school than I had that whole semester. Every once in a while, I think of that teacher and remember what an impression she made on all of us, and I try to appreciate all of those things that sometimes we all overlook. 

Take notice of something special you see on your lunch hour today. Go barefoot. Or walk on the beach at sunset. Stop off on the way home tonight to get a double dip ice cream cone. For as we get older, it is not the things we did that we often regret, but the things we didn't do.

(www.https://hudds53.wordpress.com/2012/10/25/dying-mans-daily-journal-the-little-things-in-life/)

Oz

As I journey further into this project I find layers of resistance from the world, myself, and even the end-of-life care community. While poking into the sensitive subject of death and dying I was prepared for fear and suppression from the greater world. I am a little surprised by my own discomfort but attribute it to me being raised by and a member of the greater world.. so, yes, of course I should expect to find uneasiness in my own heart and soul.

From the palliative, hospice world itself I expected open hearted inclusion but found reluctance and suspicion. I know there are very good, very important reasons why one must go through such extensive screening procedures - interview, orientation, criminal record check, references, 26 hours of training only available a select locations and times, etc.. - but I wonder if the Wizard of Oz like curtain we hang between our pedestrian lives and the sacred, end-of-life living are only reinforcing society's fear and denial of death.

memories

Illustrations © Barbara J Holzapfel

When my Grandpa passed away I remember my Grandma telling me how disappointed she was that, after many months of patiently waiting, she still hadn't had a visit from him. No late night spirit visions, no early morning ghostly whispers, nothing. There she was still peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink, still keeping the coffee hot for surprise afternoon visitors, still living her life, but without him. This was simply inconceivable to her. She really thought he'd come back to visit at least once.

We talked about what possible logistical nightmares he might be facing in order to return to planet earth.

a) Did he have to travel through his own lifetime events and come to terms with his mortality first? If this was the case she would understand and continue to be patient.. all of that could surely take months.

b) Did he have to argue his case to come back for a visit? If this was so who would deny a good man's request to visit his devoted wife.. especially when she was waiting so patiently?

c) He might be just taking his own sweet time visiting with old family and friends who'd passed before him. Could she blame him? Some of those loved ones have been gone for so many decades the miracle of such a wondrous reunion would throw anyone off.

And then came the inevitable fear... the burning, churning, gut wrenching possibility...

d) Had he actually forgotten about her?

The struggle of losing her sister to the Spanish Flu in the early 20th century, the birth of their beautiful children, their courageous journey across the ocean to immigrate from Sweden to Canada in 1924, and the many years spent creating unforgettable memories together.. always together.. what did it mean if it was all forgotten at the end of the day?

What if all the unforgettable memories we spend our lifetime creating are forgotten once we die? Are we only meant to live, and relive, our special life moments while we're here in this lifetime and, if so, does it make them any less precious?

privilege

Illustrations © Barbara J Holzapfel

Privilege: an invisible package of unearned assets.
- Peggy McIntosh

As we know, privilege plays a major role on the availability of quality education, which provides increased opportunity for higher income, better housing, and superior medical care.

Higher education was associated with increased utilization of the interdisciplinary palliative care unit until at the end of life.
- The journal of Palliative Medicine, J Palliat Med. 2012 Aug; 15(8): 902–909. 

doi:  10.1089/jpm.2011.0437

Is it not the responsibility of the privileged to ensure compassionate, and quality end of life care to all?

sameness

The anticipation of new digs is celebrated throughout our lives; how exciting to find the perfect space, begin anew, and venture outside of our familiar landscape. For the vulnerable, critically ill or elderly the reality of moving is risky at best. There have been studies as early as 1963 in which the mortality rate during the year following the move of 121 elderly women was three times higher than expected.
Aldrich C, Mendkoff E. Relocation of the aged and disabled, a mortality study. Journal of the American Geriatrics Society 1963; 11:185-194.

Illustrations © Barbara J Holzapfel

A study in 2000 documented the effects of a move from a county home in rural England to a new nursing facility of 269 residents. The study did not show an increase in post-tranfer deaths, however this particular move was unique in it's structured timeline. Patients were prepared for the move up to 18 months prior to the move and many arrangements were made surrounding the move itself. What did stand out though was the significant increase in mortality in the year before the move.




Why would the difference in surroundings have such a profound impact on an individual? Do the spaces and places we live support us in ways we have yet to understand?