Sitting with Death

Sermon | October 23, 2022 | Lisa Jebsen

When Tim and I decided to have a baby, I was terrified. Of everything. Pregnancy, birth, motherhood. There are many, very good reasons for my fear that I will not go into here – just know that I am not being hyperbolic when I say that having Zach was literally an act of facing down my biggest fears.

In the midst of this herculean feat, I knew that a lot of my fear stemmed from ignorance. My path forward was education. I studied and read as many books and articles as possible so I would know all the options available to me – part of this education included understanding the history of how our culture has dealt with pregnancy – especially in the medical field. I found great comfort in my studies and while I regret nothing, I do recognize that I’d gone a little too deep in my research when I found myself hollering at an episode of “A Baby Story.”

Words can’t describe the exacerbation I felt at the lack of options given to the mom. I wanted to climb through my TV screen and slap the obstetrician! I remember the bemused look on Tim’s face after he came into the room to see what I was screaming about and after taking a moment to breathe, I took a step back and knew it was time to let the education part go and focus on my own baby story. Thankfully, my overzealous education and TV hollering didn’t get in the way of the most important part of my education in that it provided the groundwork for honest, open discussions that Tim and I had leading up to our labor and delivery.

All of this may seem unrelated however I assert that it couldn’t be more appropriate to start a sermon on death with a story about birth. And I think it also helps drive home the point that when we face something tough, some education and conversation can go a long way to alleviating fears.

And while I am, for lack of better words, excited about the subject today, I realize that it is a tough topic. It can be scary, uncomfortable – even triggering. Maybe a little joke will help take the edge off…

Jean wasn’t feeling well, so they went to their doctor for a complete checkup. Afterward, the doctor comes out with the results.

“I’m afraid I have some very bad news,” the doctor says. “You’re dying, and you don’t have much time left.”

“Oh, that’s terrible!” says Jean. “Give it to me straight, Doc. How long have I got?”

“Ten…” the doctor says slowly.

“Ten?” Jean asks. “Ten what? Months? Weeks? What?!”

“Nine…” intones the doctor, “eight….”

The fact that my preamble is this long is a testament to the fact that our culture has an issue talking about death – until recently I called it a taboo. But that’s not entirely true… When you look at the stories told in true crime podcasts, documentaries and TV shows and movies – death is a huge part of our pop culture.

So it seems that the taboo comes into play when talk about death “gets real” as we contemplate our own or the death of those closest to us above the register of a whisper. In exploring this topic for today, I was struck by these thoughts from experts in the UK… John Troyer, Deputy Director at the Centre for Death and Society at University of Bath says:

The point, it seems to me, is to … challenge why so many commentators, academics (like myself), and otherwise intelligent people, are so committed to persistently explaining that death is a socially repressed taboo subject. What most people need is a reason or a little bit of encouragement to know that it is not weird or macabre to have these discussions. Part of my current job, it seems, is regularly telling people that it is completely normal to discuss and think about death…

So here is an official death expert recommendation: today, this day, and for the remainder of your days, talk about death with everyone you know and encourage them to do the same. Just remember, and here I am paraphrasing the philosopher Spinoza, discussing death is a meditation not on dying but on living life.

Katherine Sleeman at the Cicely Saunders Institute of Palliative Care believes that ending the silence about death will diminish its terrors and lead to a new focus on improving the quality of life of dying patients. She says:

We prepare for the arrival of a new baby, we plan for it, we think about what we are going to buy and what we are going to call the new baby. It is part of our daily life, our conversation. Why do we not prepare for our death in the same way? I would like everyone to have a good death but we can’t achieve that unless we as a society stop whispering and start talking about it.

There I go – bringing birth into the discussion again!

Our reluctance to talk about death risks leaving us vulnerable and underprepared. The uncomfortable truth is this: while we can avoid talking about it, death is something we all have to face, our own and the ones we love.

Families desperately want to get it right for their loved one,” Chaplain at Marie Curie Hospice, Liverpool Ruth Pryce said. “But if they haven’t asked them what their wishes are – whether it’s where they want to spend their final days or a particular song they want played at their funeral – it can deeply affect the grieving process.

I recently had a conversation with this lady who was terminally ill and she was desperate to tell her daughter what she wanted but frightened of upsetting her. And her daughter desperately wanted to know what her mum wanted but was frightened of upsetting her mum.

The mum wanted to tell me what music she wanted at her funeral and I was able to tell her that her daughter wanted to have these conversations.

After we’d finished, the daughter came in and they started to talk about her mum’s last wishes and the daughter felt like a load had been taken off her mind because she knew exactly what her mum wanted.

I can personally attest to the power of these conversations. As a parent I’m familiar with the “proud mom” moment. Alternately, I’ve had many “proud daughter” moments with my parents and in-laws over the years when they came to us with their ideas and plans for the end of their lives. I can think of no greater act of love than having these kinds of talks.

So hopefully this has your own wheels turning about the conversations you can have. Or maybe you’re patting yourself on the back because you have had conversations like these! Keep up the good work!

I’d like to also get into another fear that so many of us have around death. This is a fear that can stand in the way of what I believe is an enriching spiritual practice – sitting with someone as they die.

While I don’t have tons of experience with this, the times and examples I’m about to share with you are some of the most meaningful in my life. Times when I felt my deepest connection to those I love and the interdependent web of life.

When we had to make the painful decision to put our Siberian Husky, Adelaide to sleep, it took everything in my being to stay by her side. At that point she hated car rides so much – I’m sure she was scared and confused, in addition to the pain she was in. We were ushered into a sterile exam room at the vet’s office (the staff was wonderful!) and I can still feel the chill of the linoleum as I knelt by her side. Of course, I held her as they administered the drugs to end her suffering but something went wrong with one of the shots, which prolonged things a bit. Despite all this, I was so glad I could be by her side at the end, stroking her head, thanking her for sharing her life with our family and telling her over and over how much I loved her.

For me, that’s what it’s really about. The spiritual practice of surrounding your loved one with love and light for their final moments. Of course, this isn’t always possible – there is a certain amount of luck/serendipity/timing required… I still marvel and am moved by the way that things came together for saying goodbye to my mother-in-law, Elaine.

Upon reflection, I know that my own fears and assumptions almost got in the way. She had been sick for awhile and Tim had gone out to Phoenix to help his dad while Zach and I stayed here. I’d done my best to keep Z updated, including when it became clear that Elaine was not going to make it. In that moment – and this hit me like a lightning bolt – I could tell from the look on my Zach’s face that I’d been assuming he wouldn’t want to be there. It would be too painful. It would be too much. So I immediately stopped assuming and asked if he’d like to try to get there in time to say goodbye and he didn’t think twice. Thankfully, we had the means to fly out last minute and the good fortune to make it in time to sit with her and tell her how loved she is. It was a blessing and a privilege to do all this – not to mention the blessing of gathering as a family to love and look after each other.

The last, most meaningful example I can give was with the death of my father.

While driving back from a trip to Austin, I got The Call from mom. As many of you know, my dad suffered from Lewy Body Dementia and like so many others with this disease, his body had been giving out for a while. Mom wanted me to know that dad had taken a turn for the worse, so if I wanted a chance to say goodbye, I needed to head home to Ohio.

When I did get there, it was almost like a party. Friends of the family were there, as was my brother, my sister in law from Chicago, my uncle – dad’s only sibling – from Austin. We played dad’s favorite music. We told stories. I brought something to read to him. It was also a time to enjoy each other’s company. I remember a moment when mom seemed a little irritated that my brother and I were cutting up in the corner. Not because we were goofing around – she wanted us to include dad. So we moved our snickering closer to dad – and I know in my heart that he approved.

I also know in my heart that dad waited until we could all get there to love on him. I remember holding his hand and telling him it was OK. He’d worked so hard, we were all safe and happy and my brother and I would look after mom – even though he knew as well as anyone that would not be necessary!

My heart also tells me that in the end, dad needed to be alone to make that final turn. We’d all left to get some dinner and within 20 minutes, the hospice nurses called us to come back.

It was shocking to see his physical change in that short time. Instinctively, we all gathered around his bed and laid hands on him and told him we loved him. Just as I know he waited for us all to come in from out of town, I know he waited for us all to come back for one more goodbye.

I know that these stories I shared are also full of privilege: with time to get to my loved ones, the resources for the travel, the time and good relations with family to freely discuss things. The list goes on! Nevertheless, I hope that this open, honest talk has inspired you to face fears you may have – the ones that get in the way of these types of ongoing conversations. As the Greek stoic philosopher Epictetus wrote, “I cannot escape death, but at least I can escape the fear of it.” So please. Make a plan. Review it often and adjust accordingly.

I wish you all a good life and a good death.

RESOURCES

The Globe | Death in American Society

Death in the USA – Life in the USA

Caring for someone nearing the end of life – Cancer Council Victoria

How different cultures deal with death | Newshub

Different Cultural Beliefs on Death and Dying Practices

Conquering the Challenges of Sitting Vigil

Sitting Vigil at a Death Bed: A Checklist – On the Way to Dying

The 3 Most Important Things to Remember at the Bedside of a Dying Person | by Marion Neubronner

Breaking the taboo of talking about death | The Art of Dying Well

Death isn’t taboo, we’re just not encouraged to talk about it