My grandmother turned 94 on Wednesday. Grandma has always been a kick. Even while she slowly suffered from more and more dementia, her lady-like manners remained. For the last few years, no matter how checked out she had gotten,he would look at you and say, “Well! How nice to see you!”. The recognition on her face that initially accompanied that statement slowly faded, but she still bothered to say it. Now she doesn’t say much of anything at all. She is a pretty classy lady, but truthfully, she isn’t doing so well. She seems to be drifting more and more into an interior world, which I guess is a natural part of moving towards death. I feel weird saying that when there she is, still alive and kicking. It is as though I am selling her out, not believing in her indelible spirit, and yet she is so frail and (now at least) detached. It seems foolish not to just state things as they are.
There is a lot of dignity in death. There is a lot of dignity in facing death. A friend of mine just lost her husband recently, and she made the comment, “This is not what I bargained for.” One side of me said, “Yeah, I bet”, but the other side thought, “Really? Why not?”. Aren’t we humans funny creatures? We all touch death, we all dance with it and then we say, “What?! We’re going to die? Our relatives are going to die… like forever? Huh?!”. The denial that we live in and comfort ourselves with is ridiculous.
I guess even as I consider myself relatively philosophical about it, I just can’t really fathom death. I have ideas and theories and this simultaneously powerful and wavering thing people call faith, but nothing that is unrelenting enough to really reassure me. One minute I feel solid and comfortable and the next minute a small voice that says, “But where are they REALLY?” sends me teetering over the void—lost, freaked out. And then my big ideas, my BIG RELIGION seems completely ineffectual—light and fluffy, insubstantial. It makes sense that clouds have become a visual image of the afterlife. What could be more everyday and yet immaterial?
Go Grandma. You can do it, you classy lady, you.
This lovely picture of Wilma Parmeter was taken around Christmastime by my uncle, Stan Parmeter.
2 Comments, Comment or Ping
thanks for sharing Ingrid – your thoughts and words really summed up places I’ve been and AM with death…
March 16th, 2010
I love the picture of your Grandma.
I remember when my Grandpa was living with my family up on the hill, when he had Alzheimer’s. I was 11-12 years old. There were times he was himself as he had been a few years before and knew everyone, wondering why he wasn’t living in Eugene anymore, or he was himself in another time, or thought Mom was Grandma, or didn’t know us at all. He would forget that he drank or smoked for weeks at a time (kinda’ nice, actually!), and would eventually forget how to do the most basic things, or regressed to scared and child-like behaviors. It’s an odd thing.
I understand the process of letting go as our loved ones are still alive. We keep looking for clarity from them, from the person we once knew, and they appear less and less often. So by the time they really are gone, they often have already been gone a while. Though sad, in some ways it’s a gentler sort of letting down, in my experience.
Still, I’m very sorry your Grandma is going, Ingrid. There’s no shame in acknowledging the reality, though. I think it can be helpful to connect.
And y’know what, I’d like to deny death a bit: I want to live as long as possible, because this life is way too interesting to easily give up. But of course, once I’m gone, there won’t be any way to even think or complain about it! But after seeing it happen to another, part of me can still imagine it for myself — an intractable pull toward… what? at least temporary oblivion, I guess. I’d prefer to be prepared for it, though the universe too often teaches us to expect the unexpected.
I don’t think I’ve ever believed in the sort of afterlife where my current consciousness would have any sort of perception, like in those old stories of Heaven. But, as I understand your writing, it strikes me that your Clouds idea is pretty close to Tibetan Buddhist ideas that I’m most familiar with.
If there is some sort of reincarnation or continuation of semi-individual existence or awareness, I suppose that we are like clouds of dust being blown along a path, losing particles of ourselves here, picking up bits of other things there, always changing shape, yet retaining some essence of what we are or have been. Geez, this can work on so many levels!
Even if you think of it just on a materialist’s terms, considering biological processes/cycles of decay and regeneration, and I include transfer or dispersion of electricity or energy into the world at death with that… Anyway, even if, age after age, our “souls” no longer have a single quark of what we started out with, all that substance or energy we identify with may still be informed by our original state — physical or energetic.
Which (if what I’m saying makes sense to you or anyone reading — it almost doesn’t make sense to me!) is why I think we may all just be singular and semi-temporary waves of experience upon an ocean of greater collective awareness (or non-awareness, as it might be).
Anyway, I think your Big Religion does as good a job as any other religion or philosophy or science or person in trying to explain “what is beyond” or “what is Reality” to those who are living. All of that stuff is in there; I know I’ve heard it; I’ve been to Mass a few times… There is a lot of depth in any scripture, even if it only approximately points to ideas — which is the best any words or physical expression can do. So, I think it’s important to pursue the spiritual/religious route with which we resonate most, because they do all have Answers.
Hope you don’t mind my long response, Ingrid. You got me all thoughtful ‘n’ stuff! And I live for these kinds of conversations…
March 25th, 2010
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