When you are young, there is the illusion you will live forever.  Every one knows you will not leave this earth alive.  But we act as if this should never happen.  Death has become the last taboo.

When you become older and your body starts to break down, this illusion starts to break down.  Death becomes more of a reality.  Of course, this may occur when you are young too.

Of course, when you become older and the realization your time is running down (???) it may sharpen your search for meaning.  You might stop spending time on things that really do not matter in the long run.

And spend it on the things that really do matter.  Time is finite.  And death or old age brings this to a head and may force you to face issues maybe you have avoided.

Every decision we make means you can not do something else.  We have to choose.  We can not live without dying.  And the realization of death sharpens that.

It is never too late to renew an old friendship.  I received an E Mail from someone I lost touch with.  He did a search and found my web site.  We talked on the phone today for an hour and just picked up where we had left off.  It has been a number of years since we last talked.  Old friends never leave you.  They just fade away although when one wants to be my friend again and the connection is still there I never refuse an offer.  It is never too late.  Only when death comes do you lose the final opportunity to rekindle a lost friendship.  It is never too late.  So pick up the phone now.  And call that person you no longer talk to.  If you have to reconcile a broken friendship, do so.  Everyone’s time runs out eventually.  You may regret the lost opportunities.  No one lives forever.

I woke up in the middle of the night and Tilla one of my pups was asleep right next to me again.  I never thought another dog would come along who I would love as deeply as Daisy, now gone over three years.

Daisy was the first dog I raised from a pup.  She was one stubborn dog.  I finally decided to train her when I broke the front door window for the third time.  She would go berserk whenever I was about to leave the house.  She scared me and I slammed the door again breaking the glass.

It took infinite patience to train her to stop barking uncontrollably every time I was about to leave the house.  I would clamp my hands over her snout when she barked.  If she stopped, I praised her.  Otherwise I said nothing.

I repeated this technique umpteen times.  I knew I had succeeded when all I had to do when she barked was “shush” her and she would stop immediately.

It also took a long time to train her to sleep in the corner of the bed.  She would want to sleep too closely to me.  I must have pushed her away from me dozens of times in bed before she started sleeping at my feet.

My wife was always amazed that now she would automatically sleep at my feet at the furthest reaches of the bed.

When I was in the house her eyes never left me.  She was my dog.  She finally died and I missed her terribly.  And I thought that there would never be a another dog like her.

Well, Tilla came along.  We were down to one dog and someone gave us a young female golden retriever.  And you know the rest of the story:  she got pregnant before we could fix her.  And Tilla was one of her puppies.

Tilla as opposed to Daisy wanted to please.  We had our own set of problems with him.  Tilla was the only dog athletic enough to  jump the fence we had erected and finally at great expense we had it built higher.  He also had a bad habit of pooping in the dining room every night.

He is the only dog of ours who prompted a visit from the local dog warden when a neighbor complained about one of his escapades.

He was a scoundrel and was the most aggressive of our four dogs yet paradoxically was timid when it came to other humans except us.  He will be three next July.

Tilla did certain things to endear him to me.  He loved getting belly rubs and would turn over on a dime for that privilege.  Whenever he was waiting for me to let him out he would twirl rapidly in almost perfect circles.  He was the only dog to do that of our four.

I started giving him special walks because for a while he was the only dog we could not let loose in the yard.  He can’t replace Daisy but he has come close.  And he came when I least expected it.  He has captured my heart.

I feel bad for our cat Slinky:  she is dying from a tumor.  I am not sure we can do anything about it.  She is a black female cat, somewhat timid but very affectionate, over eight years old.

We have a total of eight cats and four dogs.  That still does not make it any easier.  We could give her a cat scan, which might indicate whether the tumor is treatable but it is very expensive.

I am torn.  She was sitting on my lap just a few days ago and I realized how much I loved her.  It is so hard to let go.  I imagine some of my other pets dying.  I know they will but my mind is balking at the thought of any of them dying.

I love each pet.  Each pet is different and has a distinct personality.  And I have a special relationship with each.

I believe God has put pets in our lives to teach us to let go and love again.  We usually outlive them.  It is so hard to see any of them die.

I miss those magnificent oak trees that I passed by every time I went to the local post office.  They were only a block away.

I talked once to the man, “Drummy?” who informed me he planted them decades ago.  He lived until 101 and was called the oldest boy scout in the county.

There were only three left.  I had moved away and once was visiting my old haunts.  The last three were gone.  There were holes where the trunks used to be.  They were 100 foot plus high stately oaks.

They were not diseased but were cut down because if they ever fell down, they might do major damage to the three nearby houses.

The trees did nothing wrong and I was glad I did not live in that town any longer because every time I would pass that street I would think of those trees.  I (???) still mourning their death.

Why Isolation Is So Bad

Author: siggy

The isolation you impose on yourself is bad because the problems you face become inflated.  When you break your silence and share your problems with trusted friends, you gain more of a proper perspective of your problems.

When you go beyond the borders of your house and mix with others, you usually find out others are also dealing with difficulties sometimes even worse than yours.

My favorite Norman Vincent Peal anecdote is when he was once walking with a acquaintance and this person ranted and railed about all the difficulties he was undergoing.

Norman interrupted the person in the middle of his conversation and asked him, “Do you want to know where you can go where you will no longer have problems?”  And the person exhorted him to tell him that immediately and Norman simply pointed to the ground.

Sometimes we forget difficulties are just normal state of affairs and we need someone to remind us of that fact.  Isolating yourself prevents you, often, from finding this elementary fact.

When you connect with someone and suddenly during the course of the conversation you find this out there is often a sigh of relief from you.

Life is full of problems and worries and concerns and it is important to find out yours are really not that unique and all are part and parcel of being alive.

Why can’t people talk openly about death?  It is a mystery but so what.  Death claims us all.  The mortality rate is 100 per cent but no one wants to talk about it.

We act as if it is a curse.  When death occurs in a hospital, patients are just whisked away as if they were never there.  No one wants to die alone.  Dying has become very impersonal.  Thus the hospice movement.

All this is running through my mind when my kidney function worsened and my nephrologist said she might put in motion dialysis and I found out only one third of patients on dialysis survived five years and another said 20 per cent died the first year.

All of a sudden it looked as if I will never see seventy–much less the age my parents died (my Mom was eighty and my Dad was ninety).  I am sixty-one.

It has been three weeks since my last visit with my nephrologist and I was depressed.  I needed to talk about my condition but it was not so easy.  People do not talk openly about death except in passing at best.

I even had difficulty with those closest to me–my wife.  On one level we all know we are going to die but we act as if that is never going to happen.  I just asked for one thing:  I wanted to die with grace.  I just wanted to talk about it and there was no one.

All I want you to do is listen, not feel sorry for me.  The prognosis was not good.  My kidney function had declined and I might have to undergo dialysis within a year.

My depression further increased when I learned only a third of the people undergoing dialysis survive five years and there was, also, a greater chance of stroke and heart disease.

Suddenly I realized I might not make it even to sixty-five.  My mortality became real.  Everyone knows that they are going to die eventually but act as if death will never come and when it does others act surprised and think it is a terrible thing.

I wanted to talk openly about this latest development but I felt odd bringing it up with certain loved ones and friends.  Death has become a taboo.  It is not discussed openly in our society.

I did not want sympathy.  I did not want others to feel sorry for me.  Instinctively I knew who I could not discuss my situation with.  I felt odd with them.

With those people when they ask me how I am doing, I just say “fine.”  I really wanted someone to listen, to be able to share my fears–my fears of hopelessness, of being in pain and discomfiture, dependent on others, afraid of losing my mental facilities.

I just wanted to go out in grace and peace.  Death was knocking.  There are no certainties.  It just did not look good.  I will grab every bit of control I can in my situation.  I just did not want to do it alone.

Death Is The Last Taboo

Author: siggy

I felt odd discussing my health situation:  I went to my nephrologist (a kidney doctor) for the second time.  The report of my condition was worst than I thought:  my kidney function was down to twenty per cent and my doctor in the next visit was going to discuss  putting me in dialysis.  It takes six to twelve months to put into motion.

I started to mull over what this meant.  A loss of my freedom.  I could not easily go away.  I had dreamed for forty years to travel to San Francisco maybe even by train (I loved train rides).  I would visit my sister whose house I had never seen and my brother-in-law who I have never met.  This would be almost impossible to do once I started dialysis.  I could at most go away for a day or two at a time.

I was reeling from this news.  I did not want to bear it alone.  Sharing it with others meant reminding them of their own mortality.  And death was the last taboo so I could not discuss my situation so easily with others.  I felt all alone.

Time all of a sudden became very valuable.  I did have a window.  I am going to take the trip that I dreamed to take for most of my life before I start my dialysis.  You only live once.

I really do not understand why your own death is so hard to contemplate.  At some point everyone knows that we will live not live forever but we act as if death is a failure and is a great thing that should not happen.

Just look at the reaction of the public when someone famous and young dies suddenly.  How could have this happened everyone wonders.  Yet we know we have no way to know the timing of our own death.  Sometimes it happens at the end of the struggle at the end of a long illness or simply due to old age:  our bodies just wore out.

Sometimes death occurs quickly and totally unexpected perhaps due to a accident or unexpected fatal occurrence.  No one wants to discuss their own impending death.  And even after it occurs others often act as if it was a great curse.

Death really makes your life much sweeter.  It forces you to consider your life choices more carefully.  Just think how horrible it would be if each person knew they would live forever.

The knowledge your life is finite forces you to consider carefully the steps and decisions you are going to make, the people you choose to spend time with, your career.  We only get one time around.

Death has become a great taboo and has become really impersonal.  Far more people today die in hospitals.  And when that occurs, the supporting staff just sweeps your body away as if you were never there.

No one wants to die alone.  The impersonal nature of death has led to the hospice movement which tries to restore dignity to your impending death.

It was not needed several decades ago when most people died at home usually surrounded by their loved ones.  No one wants to die alone.

Death is really natural.  It happens to every one.  The sooner you can realize that the more precious the time on this earth becomes.  This realization causes you to make your life more meaningful.  As I said earlier you only go around once, so make the best of it.

Funerals are for the living. I am going to my Aunt Gerda’s funeral tomorrow.  I have known this aunt since I was this little.  My two sisters and my nephew and niece will be there.

My aunt lived until the ripe old age of 92.  No one lives forever yet others act as though death is an abomination and something terrible.  It says clearly in the Bible that from dust we come and to dust we shall return.

Funerals are really for the living.

It gives others, especially those people who were invested in that person’s life, a chance to process their grieving openly in a group setting.

Persons who died do not need the funeral except for the obvious reasons.  It is others–the living-who need the funeral.  So I will think about these things as I go to the funeral.

I grew up with my aunt and she was my favorite aunt.  Her death is still too fresh.  It is hard to fathom my loss.  That will take time.  Attending her funeral will start this process of grieving.

How out of whack you are:  You think the worst thing in the world is our four dogs coming in from the yard tracking mud into our living room rug.  You have no sense of perspective.

There are people in the world who are dying because open sewage is running into the gutters in the street spreading disease.  We spend more money for pet food and bird seed than some families’ yearly income.

There are many people in many places in the world who can not buy something as basic as Neosporin ointment and aspirin (both over the counter items).

There are many people dying because they do not have access to medical care:  they are too poor.  People are dying in this world from AIDS because they can not get the medications that are too expensive for them to buy.

The poorest people in the United States are rich by most standards.  No, I do not particularly want my dogs tracking mud onto my living room rug and will do what I can to prevent that from happening but if you think that is the worst thing in the world, you have no sense of perspective!!!???