5. Making Meaning
I have always had a peripheral interest in death. This interest has become a larger fascination in the last few years (since Covid). I’m assuming my preoccupation with death is related to my fear of not living a “meaningful life.”
I love my local library and I am always perusing their event calendar to see what’s going on. I’ve been intrigued by their monthly “Death Cafes.” “Free of agenda or ideology, the aim is to increase awareness of death to help people make the most of their (finite) lives.”
These events are facilitated by an End of Life Doula, a non-medical companion to the dying and their families. I have learned about birth doulas but I had no idea that end-of-life doulas were even a thing. I absolutely want a doula for when I give birth and when I am preparing to die. How lovely would it be to have a person by your side who has no ulterior motives? I’m not trying to say that hospital workers are evil, but they are not trained to be patient-centered. Hospitals are businesses, and businesses must do what’s best for the company. It still seems crazy to me that we allow hospitals to be for-profit businesses.
I went to an event at the library on Monday night called “What Is Left Unsaid - Communicating What Matters Most.” The workshop was put on by The Peaceful Presence Project, a nonprofit here in Central Oregon that provides non-medical, thoughtful support to individuals and families facing serious and terminal illness. I was the only attendee below age 70.
The presenters shared a slide made by Katy Butler, author of two books, “The Art of Dying Well” and “Knocking on Heaven’s Door,” that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. According to Butler, there are three stages to life: making a self/growing up, making/building a life, and making meaning/building a legacy. In these phases you move from being a “subordinate” person to a person of “status” (whatever that means) to a “person of no rank.” This all seems BANANAS insulting.
I am now in the “Making a Life” stage (even though I am not yet 35). I was appalled by the description! From age 35 to 65 we are supposed to be focused on the following: striving, coupling, achieving, impressing, and mentoring. I want to opt out of each and every one of these verbs!! (Except coupling - I love my husband)
Apparently, Butler claims we are a society filled with “olders” but lacking “elders,” implying that we grow older but we don’t grow wiser. Well how could we grow wiser when we spend our entire lives focused on status and impressing others and then all of a sudden we turn 65 and realize we are old and we need to find meaning in our sad, shallow lives? How on earth is this the arc we should be emulating?
I found this all very shocking. I thought the whole point of the workshop was to make death less scary. I honestly thought that the audience would be a mix of all ages. Talking about death is like talking about money! I want to know what everyone is secretly thinking and doing about it! But alas, this “workshop” really just felt like a way for old people to get more aware of the idea that they should put their wishes down on paper if they want their death to go smoothly. I guess I have a bone to pick with Katy Butler.
If we bring death to the forefront of our lives by reminding ourselves that we all die, we can live each day more intentionally. Reminding myself that I am going to die helps me make better decisions. I am an optimizer. I want to listen to all the podcasts, read all the books, multitask as much as possible, and make the RIGHT decision. Often the right decision in my brain has meant the most practical. Find the best-paying job so that you can accumulate as much wealth as possible. This seems to align with the slide and would suggest I am successfully “building a life.” But when I remind myself that I am going to die, I don’t want to take the safe route. I feel a sense of urgency to choose the most authentic route. The unoptimized route. The unknown route. Aka the opposite of status-seeking, achieving, striving, and impressing. I think we should build a life with our legacy top of mind. Why wait until we are old and dying to try to find meaning in our lives?
I did enjoy the part of the workshop where we discussed Dr. Ira Byock’s book “The Four Things That Matter Most.” Byock claims that in the end, it all comes down to four simple phrases: “Please forgive me,” “I forgive you,” “Thank you,” and “I love you.” At this point in the discussion, we were asked to pick a phrase that spoke to us and write a note to someone with this phrase in mind. I chose to thank my mother. Unfortunately, I am not feeling very creatively inspired this week and everything I wrote sounded trite and shallow. It was still a good exercise but my note to my mother was not particularly profound.
This exercise reminds me of Richard Carlson’s (author of the “Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff Series,” which I read daily) post-humorously published book, “An Hour to Live, An Hour to Love.” It’s a beautiful love letter that Richard wrote to his wife, Kristine, on their 18th wedding anniversary. In the letter he attempts to answer a question posed by Stephen Levine in “A Year to Live.” “If you had one hour to live and could make just one phone call, who would you call? What would you say? Why are you waiting?” Richard died suddenly three years after writing this note. Stories like these give me chills. Richard was clearly one of those people who just “got it” when it came to truly living.
My preoccupation with death escalated in 2020 when a friend of a friend, Audrey Ellis, unexpectedly passed away at age 29. When I heard she had died, I was shocked. I had never met her and I did not know her but her death felt close to home since she was from the city next to mine and was only a year above me in school. She was someone that I had mutual friends with and I had seen her Instagram before and remembered how strikingly beautiful she was. I couldn’t believe she was no longer alive. I felt terrible for my friend for losing someone she was so close to.
A year after her death, my mother-in-law sent me an NPR article on Audrey. My MIL didn’t know that I had previously known of Audrey, she felt touched by the article and decided to share it with me. That article hit me like a ton of bricks. I sobbed reading it and I couldn’t believe that her sister, Kelsey, now had to live without her twin. I was so moved by the article that I started searching online to try to learn more about her life and her family. I listened to Kelsey’s interview on a medium’s podcast. I learned that during their last weekend together, Audrey and Kelsey were having conversations about growing older and turning 30. Audrey said to Kelsey, “Don't regret growing older. It's a privilege denied to many.” She died a few days later. Chills. Her memorial page is filled with excerpts from her journal and I was so blown away by her notes to herself. She signed each message with “I love you, Audrey.” Who does that? She was clearly another one like Richard, who just “got it.” She lived so deeply, so authentically and it inspired me to cherish my relationships and be more present. I have not experienced profound loss but I feel like Audrey’s death woke me up from a trance.
Finding the right words has been a challenge for me this week. So I’m going to end by quoting Richard Carlson’s wife, Kristine, with a message that I wanted to hear more of in the workshop this week:
“Our mortality is a truth we too often deny in our society, but if we open ourselves up to it, we will awaken to a vibrant and grateful life.
It’s been said that the tragedy of life is not death; the tragedy of life is that many people die wondering if they’ve ever lived.
Having an awareness of our own mortality is empowering. It reminds us to live–to infuse each day with gratitude, to be awake to our words and our sorrow and our joy. It fosters gratitude for the simple blessing of waking up each day.
Consider writing a love letter, to give that gift to one whom you love and whom you’d call in your last hour. Tomorrow is not guaranteed, but today is real and beautiful. Don’t wait.”
Tags - Death, Fear, Inspiration