Loving Horror but Hating Death

I’m delighted to have an essay published today in Paper Dragon out of Drexel University. “Poking Death’s Boundary” explores our fascination with horror movies, cemeteries, walking with grief, and dancing with death like a distant cousin. 

https://drexelpaperdragon.com/poking-deaths-boundary/

(The artwork above is by Martha Liebenow.)

Grief That Moves Like Water

 I did not understand death or grief until my wife Evelyn died unexpectedly. She was in her 40s when she had a heart attack. Her death uprooted my life and left it in ruins.

As I slowly made my way through the landscape of grief, I began to find words that were capable of expressing the depths and devastation of the grief I felt, and how it flowed and meandered like water.

“Like Water” is my essay on losing Evelyn and how we like to tease Death by taking risks, some of the dangerous, until someone we dearly love dies. It was published this month by the superb Linden Review, one of the few literary journals that is dedicated to exploring the complexities of the word health.

You can read my essay at this link: https://www.lindenreview.com/liebenow-like-water

Birds

 Birds of a Feather: A Children’s Story of Love, Loss, and What Came Next, by Tom Crice, illustrated by Ellen Rakatansky, 2018.

 

            The two biggest problems when a child is grieving is that the child’s feelings are often discounted and that adults try to protect the child from feeling pain by lying to them about what happened.

It's Not the Color

When Death Comes

 

When we fail to protect our people, and death comes,

every community should pause with its grief,

society should close its businesses, stop all its normal activities, 

and come together for a day to collectively grieve,

 

to mourn with our hearts, and not just with words,

to acknowledge our failures and mistakes,

to gather the wounded and hurting and console them,

 

to say that what happened was wrong and that what we did wasn't enough,

to take the necessary steps to prevent this from ever happening again,

and resolve that it never will.

 

                        Mark Liebenow

Is There No Death?

             On anniversaries of death, we are faced with a choice, especially if our loved ones died more than a year ago. We can’t just say that it was great knowing them and move on, because we are still attached to the beauty and light that we saw in them. We also can’t give up on life and just mourn, because each day of life is precious. We learned this when our loved ones fought to live one more day.

Possessions Left Behind

 

            After a loved one’s death, we have to decide what to do with their possessions. Although there are some things that we wish they would have taken with them, many of their possessions have stories and emotions attached—their favorite coffee cup with the slight chip, the tools they used for their hobbies, the scent in their clothes, and their ashes.

 

            After Ev died, I wanted to keep everything, and I mean everything, even her handwritten notes on containers in the freezer identifying food, and the to-do list on the board, with smiley faces indicating her preference for which tasks we should tackle next. I didn’t want to lose anything that reminded me of part of her personality, laughter, or sense of style. As the survivor, I became the gatekeeper of her life. 

 

Talking with Children About Grief

I was going to share a different post with you today, then yesterday I listened to the wonderful podcast of Christina Rasmussen talking with her two daughters, Elina and Isabel, about their father’s death 15 years ago when they were six and four. This kind of conversation doesn’t happen often enough.

 

Before I talk about this, I want to remind you that it’s important to pay attention when people say they are struggling to hold their thoughts together. Seven years ago today, we lost Robin Williams to suicide as he tried to cope with Lewy body dementia that brought depression, anxiety, paranoia, and hallucinations. You can read my post about that at: https://widowersgrief.blogspot.com/2019/08/lost-to-suicide.html

 

Like suicide, talking about grief should not be taboo. We should not feel ashamed when someone we love dies because then we will say nothing about it to others, and this is when we need their support. 

 

Eulogy or Elegy?

 

(photo by Marcia)

 

Funerals tend to be more elegy than eulogy, lamenting the dead rather than celebrating the person’s life as we send them off into the Ever Forever After with a toast and a hearty cheer. 

 

It’s probably a matter of timing. If a funeral happens right after someone has died, we are overwhelmed by feelings of loss, and we’re trying to corral enough positivity and joy to offset our pain. A memorial service held later in the year allows us to remember the person’s entire life. Three weeks after my wife’s unexpected death, I thought I could give Evelyn’s eulogy, but the shock of her unexpected death was still too fresh and raw, and my friend Daniel graciously read my words.

 

Getting Married Again

 

One of my readers asked: 

I know you are still examining the loss of Evelyn. I also know you are remarried. How did you get from grieving for Evelyn to being able to open yourself and commit to another relationship? Somehow you make the transition. How?

Many thanks, Ellen

 

Dear Ellen,

 

Losing a spouse is so traumatic and heartbreaking that we’re tempted to close the doors on ever getting this close to anyone again. What we want is for our spouses to not be dead and to have our old lives back, but these are not options.

 

Losing Evelyn devastated me. We were young when she died, and I didn’t know how to grieve. Because my friends were also young, they didn’t know how to help, although several tried, and for their compassion I am forever grateful.

 

Dora and Nicole

 Loving a pet changes us because animals have a nobility of spirit that draws out the best in us. They allow us into their lives, and ask only for love and respect. The bonds of devotion that form between pets and humans can be as profound and as deep as any relationship. And when our pets die, we grieve.

 

Nicole wrote recently about the death of her beloved dog Dora. She had lost Daisy, another dog, not long before, as well as a brother and an elderly cat. Her words are below. They are powerful and come from a heart that has been broken by death yet held up and enlarged by love.

 

When my wife Evelyn died, Nicole was the transplant coordinator who handled Ev’s organ donations. Nicole’s compassion was evident then, and she was one of the core people who helped me find my way through grief. Over the years, I have grown in admiration and awe of her love for all creatures, especially those who are suffering. Living a life of compassion is not easy on the heart. Dora was a rescue dog who had been mistreated, but she blossomed under the care of Nicole and Jeremy. 

 

                        *

 

            On her last full day on earth, Dora and I sat under a tree the whole day, talking, watching the chickens, eating Fritos and other tasty things. I tried to explain (because she was really smart, like a small child) that in the morning, we would go see Dr. Enz. She would get very sleepy and when she woke up, she'd be at a new farm, with a young dog's body and nothing would ever hurt again. There would be no 1 greenie a day, or 2 bones per week limit there!! And she would never need any medicine again, especially the eye drops, which she really hated but dutifully lifted her sweet little face for twice a day when dad asked. I reminded her to look for a small white dog named Daisy, who would show her the ropes. She had her paw on top of my hand for most of it. I had the feeling she was trying to console me; she knew I was sad, and didn't like it. She slept a lot too, and I kept watch over her.

 

Doctor Who and the Afterlife

Clara’s dead, maybe.

Doctor Who is a science fiction program on the BBC that revolves around the relationship of the Doctor and various companions as they jump around different universes through time and space saving people, planets, and whatnot. Clara is one of the companions who remind him of his values and keep him in line. They travel in a blue TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimension in Space), which looks like an old, British police telephone box from the outside, yet is enormous on the inside.

 

If you’re new to the Whovian Universe, you’ll probably miss some of the references in the episodes to what happened before and to previous incarnations of the Doctor. The writers like to do this a lot. In addition to the interesting storylines and characters, I also like the philosophical riffs, although sometimes I like them so much that I continue thinking about them, miss where the story went, and have to scramble to catch up.

 

Life is a River

I do not like dying. None of us do, I suppose. Every time someone or something we love dies, part of us dies with them. I also don’t like changes.




Whenever I return to Yosemite, or to any favorite place in nature, I want those places to look exactly the same. I want the scenic views that inspire me, and I want those mountains, forests, or rivers to make me feel alive. 

Giving Life

Organ Donation

We generally don’t like to think about death. Because of the coronavirus, we’re now thinking about it every day, and we’re worried because so much about the disease remains unknown.

When someone we love dies, the waves of emotion, finality, loss, and shock overwhelm our system and we don’t know what we’re supposed to do next. When doctors ask if we want to donate their organs, we may not understand the gravity of what they’re asking.

Death of a Hawk

The Great Black Hawk saga.

A short essay of mine about a rare hawk was published by Entropy Magazine today. It’s also about curiosity, death, grief, compassion, wilderness, healing, kinship with nature, ecological warning, hope, and what it means to live in community with the earth. 

I worry about what I would have done if I hadn’t had nature in the months after Evelyn’s death. I often went to Yosemite to hike alone in the wilderness because I needed to figure out how I was going to survive grief. The long days on the trail gave me the time and the solitude I needed to listen for what I could not hear at home. The beauty and awe of natural world reminded me that I was not alone, and that I always had a place where I could go and renew my spirit.

You can read the essay online:

https://entropymag.org/the-birds-the-great-black-hawk/

(Yes, that's an owl in the photo because I don't have my own photo of a hawk, but the journal has a good one.)

John Muir and Grief

The death of someone we love changes our life and unveils the frailty of existence. When we sit down with grief and look back, we realize that change has been continuous over the years. We are not who we were ten years ago or who we were as a teenager.

John Muir said, “Creation was not an act, it is a process, and it is going on today as much as it ever was.” Grief reminds us of this.

At the Hour of Our Death

In the hour before someone dies, the image that may come to mind is of someone fading peacefully away with a smile on their face, candles creating a warm ambiance, and people gathered around the bed in different positions of repose offering gentle assurances. 

 (On her blog, Elaine Mansfield talked about facing this moment of her husband’s death with him. It is well worth the read. link -  https://elainemansfield.com/2019/facing-deepest-fear/ )

Ideally, in the hours before this last one, we have talked with the person who is dying about important matters, our fears and hopes about the afterlife, and said everything we wanted to share with each other while we still could, our thank yous, wishes, and goodbyes. Unfortunately, for various reasons, many of us don’t want to acknowledge that death is a possibility, and we leave much of our hearts unsaid.

 

We gather by the bedside because we want to be there in case the person wants to say something, and to be there when they take their last breath, feeling that no one should die alone. We don’t want them to be in pain, confused, or feel lost, and yet we feel helpless to do anything.

 

During this time, Christians and Muslims often read scripture, recite creeds, or pray the Rosary, to bring comfort and assurance of Heaven. In Tibetan Buddhism, sacred scriptures are read to remind the dying to go towards the light when it appears in the Bardo, the transition place between this world and the next. They have three chances to see the light and go, or remain here as ghosts.

 

Some people put on soft music to calm the tension in the room. There are Threshold choirs that will sing continuously to the dying person until they pass. I suspect they sing the old, familiar hymns, or songs from Sweet Honey in the Rock. I doubt that they sing classic rock or jazz, but whatever music the dying person loved is appropriate because you want them to be in the right frame of mind for the transition into their Great Awakening.

 

                        *

 

In the moment after someone’s death, there are options. You may be able to sit with your loved one’s body for an hour before it is taken away, but you will have to ask if this is possible. This could be important because some cultures and religions, like the Lakota Sioux and the Russian Orthodox, believe that the spirit lingers for a time before it takes leave of its body.

 

You may want to wash the body of your loved one and prepare them for burial. A friend did this for her mother with help from the nurses. In the ancient Celtic tradition, elderly women of the neighborhood would come in, wash the body, and lay it out in a room where mourners would offer a prayer and say a few words of condolence to the family. In another room there would be a wake where the deceased’s life was remembered through stories. At the funeral home, you may be able to light candles and sit with the body in vigil overnight or for 24 hours.

 

Sometimes we do not have time to say goodbye if they died in a car accident or had a heart attack. Sometimes, after a long struggle with an illness, signs of hope will begin to appear, before death slips back in and takes our loved one away. No one know when they will die. Say everything you want people to know today.

 

At the hour of our death, may the angels and archangels, and all the benevolent beings, draw near to receive our spirit, and comfort those who remain. May we open our arms to those who have lost someone, and comfort them in their grief.

                        *

After the burial and have done all we can for the dead, the focus shifts to doing what we can for the living, for those who are mourning. Their journey of sorrow is just beginning and they will need our help in the coming weeks and months.

In Judaism, there are community observances to help mourners in the first three days, the first week, and the first month. In Islam, followers bring food, read verses from the Qur’an, and stay overnight so that the surviving spouse is not alone. In the Japanese culture, a small altar is set up in the house where the family can go, talk with the deceased, and keep the lines of communication open. The Amish visit the homes of those who died every Sunday for a year.

If your community doesn’t have a ritual that is meaningful for you, create your own. Find a way to remember and honor your loved one’s place in your life. Set up a small display or altar with items symbolic of your loved one, with their photo and ashes, as a way of remembering them. The relationship doesn’t end with death; it changes perspective. 

Having a ritual gives us a way to honor our loved one and keep them present in our life.

Accidental Grieving

It’s unsettling to read about someone who is in anguish and coming apart at the seams. At the same time, Maryanne Pope’s book A Widow’s Awakening is a heartwarming story of her spirit’s ability to endure one of the hardest experiences we will ever face — the death of someone we love. 

You Who Love the Dead

As you wait in the dark, be brave. 

Let your body feel whatever it feels. 

Let your heart drift unanchored.

For a time, be lost.

When a Parent Dies

for T

Losing a parent is never straight forward because the relationship is one that we were born into and not one that we chose. We may not like both of our parents, and one we only tolerate until we’re old enough to get out of the house. When they die, we can experience a wide range of feelings—grief of various intensities, but also love, hate, relief, despair, sadness, anger, and guilt.

Even if our relationships with our parents weren’t the best when we were growing up, they are still family, and in the long run this may mean more to us than we realize at the time. Whether they were good parents or bad, we only have two of them, and when they die, we become orphans.