“Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.” – Dylan Thomas
Death puts a real crimp in your day. The other night, my wife and I were watching that noir-ish chestnut The Big Heat. The plot hinges on the murder of the wife of Glen Ford’s ace detective hero. (It’s only a story, people!) Ford is left a fine, upstanding widower with a young daughter. While he pursues the case, his daughter is left with her doting aunt and uncle. Ohhh, and she’s told that her mother has just gone away on a trip up north. She should be back anytime. It is a luxury in this world to distance ourselves and our loved ones from death.
Fifty years after The Big Heat was released, we faced a similar dilemma of explaining death to our young child as we faced the loss of a close relative. Helping determine our approach was the fact that we assisted in providing end-of-life care. We sought advice from child-care workers, clerics, and many books. Older texts parroted the denials of death that were so odd in a generation that survived World War II (although maybe not). Contemporary books emphasize direct discussion of the facts of the end of life.
So, we grieved in front of our child. We talked about the life cycle (birth, maturity, reproduction, seniority, death) and how everyone does not live through all stages of the cycle. We talked about finding spiritual comfort where our hearts, minds, and souls allowed. In the end, I stood in the alcove of the funeral home, helping my son with his decision to visit the open casket in the next room. Later, we stepped outside and numbered our lost loved ones among the stars.
November, 2005