Let’s do this better

Doing life better to have a better death?

Caveat emptor?

Yesterday, Kristin made the comment these posts are “kind of dark.” I’m very grateful for her feedback. When I write, I’m very attuned to tone, emotion, and feeling. The feeling tone being surfaced in these posts so far? Well…it’s kind of my point, at least in starting these this way before Dad arrives to stay with us. It’s been intentional. Think of it as a necessary “setting the stage” if you really want to dig in with me about everything Dad’s Journey will entail. We plan to be in this for his end-of-life care. I’ll try to keep you all informed and engaged in his journey—but in the end, his body is gonna die.

And yet, “death as darkness” is only a mindset—it doesn’t have to be that way. THAT’s a choice! This is a second point of mine in writing. That was such an important comment from Kristin and I’m calling it out as the important teachable moment it is: for it was also confirmation that we don’t do death well in our culture right now. Who says death has to be depressing, sad, confusing, painful…dark? And these only? Of course the death of a beloved will be all of these and more; all emotions felt will be unique to each of us—but the death of a beloved can also be cause for celebration, honor, dignity, Soul, joy, light, and gratitude. Because though his body, his physical presence, (and our’s too btw!) eventually will die, Dad’s Spirit, his Soul, his life force/energy will return to the eternal—and will continue its next phase of existing in a manner mysterious, yet just as wonderful. Further reasons why I feel called to be Dad’s chronicler right now. But Dad needs to play a part too, as you’ll soon read.

So, stay patient with me, with these posts. Good times are a’comin’ because “Mr. Laugh-A-Minute with a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous grin on his face” will be here soon. Then, all bets are off!

Okay, I needed to write this prelude to address Kristin’s comment, which meant, for me, the possibility others of you might have been feeling the same thing (“Geez Louise! What’s with Kert’s fixation on death?”). There’s irony here—‘cuz now I offer you what I intended to send out today, unedited. See if you can spot the irony. And…thank you for following along. I love you all! We feel your loving vibrations here in Lake Stevens, as the house is now ready to be a home for a beloved man (I’m steeling myself to receive critiques about my landscaping in our yard though—fortunately, a shovel still fit in his hands. And he thinks he’s coming to Club Med.

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Who am I to judge?

I’ve said that one reason we want Dad with us is so that he can have a higher quality of life. This no doubt will happen as he moves from a place of nameless faces (of staff and residents at Brookdale); and from not engaging with his environment so as to bring stimulation, color, and variety into his experience; to home with a son, a daughter-in-law, and Sammy.

Pause: Dad was always a dog lover—I cannot remember a time when Dad didn’t have a dog. And so he’s adopted Sammy, our 12 year old Yorkie. No, wait, it’s more like Sammy’s adopted Dad! For a while, as we ended every phone call, calls that I would have on speaker so that Kristin (and Sammy) could listen in, Dad would say “bye Sammy” before he’d get around to saying goodbye to Kristin. It soon became a fun and running joke with the three, oops, sorry Sammy, FOUR of us. I digress.

At his new forever home, Dad will have a lot more stimulus, exercise, experiences, and variety (including vegan food! Did I mention that Dad is going VEGAN? And that he’s gonna LOVE IT!!!! He’s gonna LOVE it dammit!).

I’ve also said that Dad “isn’t aging and doing his death well.” Who the heck am I to judge that? Shouldn’t a person have the privilege of aging and dying in any way they want? It’s their death after all. It’s their life. (BTW: are YOU doing your death well now? How do you know?) How arrogant for anyone else to step in and judge a person in their final days risking adding more suffering to the mix; as if that person needs any more guilt or regret in the remaining days of their life. I’ve thought a lot about this. A lot. Truth is I’ve struggled with it because I’ve gone back and forth on how far to insert myself into Dad’s life in order to change his way of being—aka his way of living and dying. But Dad is suffering for a very specific reason—and I think I (we) can be of service to him here.

Here’s the thing: we need elders in our lives to teach us their wisdom—ancestral wisdom from the ages. And living well, aging and dying well, and death, are all grist for the wisdom mill that in ages not so far past, we used to learn from the elders in our lives—if not by their direct teaching, as part of a family or tribal culture, then at least by their example. Reflect on what is lost, that we don’t even know about, when we aren’t graced with the teachings of elders in our lives. In the latter years of my principalship, I saw this play out in real time among the parents of my students—parents that kept getting younger and younger, and less and less skilled in the ways of raising healthy, kind, strong, empowered, and resilient kids. The pandemic shut down highlighted that even more for me.

Take a look around you, how many elders do you include in your life right now? Not just those you are acquainted with, but…true elders? This means we have to understand the difference between an old person and an elder. I contend we have a lot of old people in our lives, as a society mind you, but few elders. Few Elders (with a capital E).

Elderhood is not a noun. It’s a verb. Being an Elder is to DO the work of instructing others, with wisdom, discernment, and compassion, on how to be human—on how to make others human. Stephen Jenkinson says rightly: “Human beings aren’t born. Human beings are made.” And humans, gifted as we are with evolution’s most complex organ, the human brain, will learn from any example or teacher in front of us. So, if Elders aren’t around to teach us the ways and means of becoming human, including and especially the art of living and dying, from where, then, is THAT going to be learned? (Hint: technology isn’t helping in this regard).

Being or becoming an Elder isn’t based on one’s age, by the way. It’s based on something harder to define, but for certain it has a lot to do with one’s connection to the timeless, the eternal; with one’s resonance with the profound, with awe; with one’s access to uncommon wisdom; and with an intimate acquaintance with Spirit and one’s own Soul. I knew a few kindergarten kids who were true Elders—if one looks deep enough, with some all too rare children, you can see within the eyes of even 5 year olds how some are “old souls.”

Back to Dad.

Because it is not ingrained in him, I’m not sure Dad was Eldered in the ways of aging and dying. Heck, how could he have been? He was too busy tending his fields! I believe this is one of the major causes of his existential angst right now. He simply doesn’t know how to do it; that it, living through his dying, actually CAN be different, with less suffering and anxiety. His current way of Eldering is not the lesson he should be passing on to us. Now, all bodies know how to die, certainly; but it is an art to pass on to progeny how to age and die with joy, grace, and dignity. I see no one, maybe because his own father died too young before passing on this rich teaching (and if you knew Grandma Ida…well, there you go!); no one who served as Dad’s mentor in the ways of growing old. He doesn’t tell us those stories, anyway—I’m certain they don’t exist. And Dad was never a reader so he had no access to the rich wisdom literature that exists in this field.

I want Dad to Elder us. I want Dad’s kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids; and all other family and friends who care to learn from him, to bear witness to an Elder’s graceful swan song. It’s obvious he needs our help. He’s not setting the best example, as the patriarch of our family, of how to age, sage, Elder, and journey toward the end of his days. We can help—I will help. It’s one of the things I’m passionate about and one of our main motivations for welcoming him in to his forever home, in our home. It’s also one thing he cannot refuse or say no to. He owes this, not to us, not to me (although of course we’d all benefit), but mostly to himself. Dad’s always been a proud man—a man who took great pride in his independence; in having a weedless field of hops, as well as the best manicured yard in Toppenish or Moxee; a man who took quiet pride in helping raise (albeit in the background from mom—but he was there!), a brood of five young’uns; and a man who showed up every day for work with absolutely no sick days because no one else could do what he could and if he didn’t, well…that simply wasn’t an option.

Dad should be proud of his life—he’s earned that admiration from all of us. In order for him to be proud, he has to remember. And he should let go of this current life manifestation in a similarly proud manner—one free from suffering, worry, and anxiety. Our time together will be woven with questions to, and reflections from, Dad about his life so that his memories become the stories and teachings we will forward on in our hearts. Dad should also be proud of the example he will soon set as his life ebbs. He’s not there…yet. We have hundreds of stories we can and will tell about Dad from our past; and there are stories still to be written from this near future that will be profoundly soulful about the final stages of this humble and proud life. That’s how Dad becomes our Elder.

I’ll be posting blogs about our progress. Keep Dad in your heart—he’ll feel that. And keep your heart open and receptive—his Eldering is coming.

T minus three days and counting.