life’s a bitch…

Life’s a bitch and then you die.  Is death harder than life? We all know that life can be hard. But is dying the hardest part of life?  I’m inclined to think that the act of dying is the hardest on the person doing the dying. It seems to make sense but upon more reflection, it feels like it is harder on the people watching the dying.  The person dying is usually heavily medicated, lying in bed and sleeping. For some people that is like a vacation.  I’m high as shit, laying in a soft bed and I can sleep all I want.  Paradise? Maybe, maybe not.  I know from my side, unmedicated, sitting in a hard chair in a hospital room and definitely not sleeping is hard.  Probably one of the hardest things in life is watching someone you love die. Life’s a bitch…

As a self-proclaimed socio, I prefer to do this alone.  Grieve alone, keep my sad thoughts to myself.  I don’t want to hear how sorry you are.  I don’t want you to ask, what can you do for me?  BRING THE PERSON BACK! MAKE THEM ALIVE AGAIN! Build a time machine so I can go back in time and enjoy more time with them. If you can’t do any of those things, then leave me alone to be socio (and angry at the world) on my own.

I’ve heard the expression, “misery loves company”. Really? Does that apply to the “death watch squad” that sometimes assembles at the hospital?  Do I want people to sit at my side and watch me die? NO. That also means I don’t want to assemble with others to watch someone die.  I want to respect the person who is dying and if they don’t want anyone around, then no one should be around. If they want to spend their last days with their spouse, kids or siblings, give them that wish! Dying is about the person going through the experience. IT’S NOT ABOUT THE LIVING!  The funeral is for the living.  Wait your turn and you can gather and make it about you then. Stop it! Now!

I like to think about the person before they got sick, before the hospital, before the funeral. It’s like an imprint on your brain, that never goes away.  For all the significant people in my life that have died, that last moment, the one the shows them happy, healthy, enjoying life is the one I want to burn into my brain.  Not the one of them in the worst (and unfortunately) last moments before death.

My dad died when I was 16. My vision of my dad is not from the funeral or the hospital.  It’s me and him; I’m maybe 6 or 7.  We are cleaning on a Saturday, when suddenly he puts on a record, Mitch Miller, I think. I run to his arms, I know what that song means, time to dance! I grab his hands, put my feet on his feet, and we dance a waltz. We could have danced forever, more times than I can count we danced like that.  We could have danced like that at my wedding, but he died before we could. I did not go to his funeral. I did not want that imprint on my brain.

My vision of my mom, who was not as loving as my dad, is still a good one to remember her by. She wasn’t touchy feely, neither am I (read socio here) but I have come to accept that.  She was crazy and ridiculous most of the time and a pathological liar at one time or another. I remember her almost blowing up my house because she left the gas on and another time, she let someone in the house who tested for a gas leak by telling her to lift up a lamp in her living room while his partner tried to rob her.  Good times. There was also the time when we were bringing her groceries to her assisted living apartment that she told everyone that she had no children, and we were the delivery people. I did not see her when she was about to die but I did go to her funeral.

I have one more significant person in my life, I called her my second mom, who died more than 20 years ago.  She had no kids, some siblings, but I was her kid by choice. I did the death watch, stayed by her side, gathered with people and have a picture in my head of her last moments.  It overshadows all the good times I had with her. It is a bad imprint on my brain that haunts me to this day.

Is life really a bitch? Is the worst thing in the world, dying alone or being alone when you die?  No expectations, no disappointments, no pressure for you to try to make them feel better about the worst moments of your soon-to-be- over life. No judgement. I want to think that as your last journey begins with lots of  lovely drugs, soft beds and endless sleep, your final destination is comforting, you are about to reunite with all your past family and friends that took the death trip before you.  Welcome to Paradise!

PS-I love you forever Sis. Tell Mom and Dad hi!