Joking about Death
Joking about Death
written 7/22/2017
My perspective about death and grief has changed so immensely these past few years. One of those things is how flippant we are as a culture about death. I think this is because most of us are so distant from it.
We joke about it all the time.
"I spent all day keeping my kids alive!"
"At least they are alive! "
"Don't choke and die!"
"They aren't going to die or anything."
I'm guessing you have said at least something similar today.
But for every day we knew of Noelle's genetic condition of Trisomy18, we actually were trying to keep her alive every day. Death actually was so near, every moment. Palpable, even. Especially those first few months when she was on hospice. The doctors told us it was highly probable that her brain wouldn't tell her body to breath and she would die sleeping in her crib. Every time I walked up to her crib I braced myself to find her dead.
Yet! Noelle lived! She grew, learned, thrived...and she was a person.
A person like you, like me.
Its interesting how polarizing death is. Some people didn't want to get to know her because they thought she wouldn't be with us long. Some people hardly or didn't even acknowledge us during Noelle's lifetime. Now after she's gone, they try and connect again. Its like the stench of death was too much for them. Some people only were willing to invest in our lives, in Noelle's life, when we thought she would live to see many years.
Only the Lord knew Noelle would have 632, and he knows how many you will have (Psalm 139:16). Oh that we wouldn't shy away from those who may have little left.
But back to those "death" statements. After having actually watched my very own babygirl die right before my own eyes, hearing flippant, casual statements about death feel utterly wrong and inappropriate. It seems death isn't something many my age have seen or experienced. Death is not a laughing matter. Those who can laugh about it haven't tasted its bitterness.
When I hear statements like that, it brings me suddenly right back to that room, third from the end on the right Childrens PICU room, where I watched the monitors slowly go down in pitch, and watched death swallow my baby Noelle.
And your joke, your humor as I hold these memories in my mind as you speak...
...it makes me want to vomit.
I ask you to think twice about those statements you've made, and the ones you will make, about death. Think about your own fragility as a human. Think about those who may be, this very minute, experiencing it.
I also challenge you to draw near to people who are near to it. You will not come away unchanged!
written 7/22/2017
My perspective about death and grief has changed so immensely these past few years. One of those things is how flippant we are as a culture about death. I think this is because most of us are so distant from it.
We joke about it all the time.
"I spent all day keeping my kids alive!"
"At least they are alive! "
"Don't choke and die!"
"They aren't going to die or anything."
I'm guessing you have said at least something similar today.
But for every day we knew of Noelle's genetic condition of Trisomy18, we actually were trying to keep her alive every day. Death actually was so near, every moment. Palpable, even. Especially those first few months when she was on hospice. The doctors told us it was highly probable that her brain wouldn't tell her body to breath and she would die sleeping in her crib. Every time I walked up to her crib I braced myself to find her dead.
Yet! Noelle lived! She grew, learned, thrived...and she was a person.
A person like you, like me.
Its interesting how polarizing death is. Some people didn't want to get to know her because they thought she wouldn't be with us long. Some people hardly or didn't even acknowledge us during Noelle's lifetime. Now after she's gone, they try and connect again. Its like the stench of death was too much for them. Some people only were willing to invest in our lives, in Noelle's life, when we thought she would live to see many years.
Only the Lord knew Noelle would have 632, and he knows how many you will have (Psalm 139:16). Oh that we wouldn't shy away from those who may have little left.
But back to those "death" statements. After having actually watched my very own babygirl die right before my own eyes, hearing flippant, casual statements about death feel utterly wrong and inappropriate. It seems death isn't something many my age have seen or experienced. Death is not a laughing matter. Those who can laugh about it haven't tasted its bitterness.
When I hear statements like that, it brings me suddenly right back to that room, third from the end on the right Childrens PICU room, where I watched the monitors slowly go down in pitch, and watched death swallow my baby Noelle.
And your joke, your humor as I hold these memories in my mind as you speak...
...it makes me want to vomit.
I ask you to think twice about those statements you've made, and the ones you will make, about death. Think about your own fragility as a human. Think about those who may be, this very minute, experiencing it.
I also challenge you to draw near to people who are near to it. You will not come away unchanged!
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