Hands on Death

[neonlyte]

I heard a humbling tale last night, it moved me to tears partly because I knew the individuals involved, but mostly because it demonstrated only too clearly the how far some sections of society have moved from revering and valuing human life.

The Mother of a friend died some months ago. She was in her nineties, and her time had finally come. Her five children, three daughters, two sons were at her bedside when she died. One daughter had travelled from the west coast of USA to the west coast of Europe to ensure she was present at her Mother's last breath.

After death claimed the Mother, her children, aged I suppose between fifty and seventy, tended to her body quietly sharing memories from the childhood. They cleaned her, they oiled her body, they dressed her in her finest clothes and spent the night with her holding hands with their dead Mother while they sung songs and told tales.

As told to me, it sounded beautiful, honourable and, despite my tears, I was happy for the life they had shared.

 

[rgraham666]

The distance between death and life causes a lot of problems here in North America.

So I agree with the last sentence, Will.

 

[starrkers]

Death is inevitable. Why should it be treated any differently than with reverence?

Nice reminder, Will.

 

[Selena_Kitt]

Midwives uses to attend both births and deaths. They are truly, inextricably linked. From womb to tomb. Even today, many midwives find themselves working in hospice and nursing homes as well. That energy - bringing life into the world, or easing life out of it, is the same. And the rituals surrounding both, while the feelings are different, are quite similar as well.

Both are actually quite beautiful.

And painful.

 

[Guest]

I heard a humbling tale last night, it moved me to tears partly because I knew the individuals involved, but mostly because it demonstrated only too clearly the how far some sections of society have moved from revering and valuing human life.

The Mother of a friend died some months ago. She was in her nineties, and her time had finally come. Her five children, three daughters, two sons were at her bedside when she died. One daughter had travelled from the west coast of USA to the west coast of Europe to ensure she was present at her Mother's last breath.

After death claimed the Mother, her children, aged I suppose between fifty and seventy, tended to her body quietly sharing memories from the childhood. They cleaned her, they oiled her body, they dressed her in her finest clothes and spent the night with her holding hands with their dead Mother while they sung songs and told tales.

As told to me, it sounded beautiful, honourable and, despite my tears, I was happy for the life they had shared.

We tended my brother in a similar way.

I think when you lose a loved one in the hospital and not at home, you can lose the chance for this kind of closeness.