loss
Out of the incredible circumstances of 2020, in my mind at the least, one of the most important collective lessons we’ve all been made to confront is the fragility of life and that conversations about death has abruptly jostled its way to the forefront.
“Our reluctance to honestly examine the experience of aging and dying has increased the harm we inflict on people and denied them the basic comforts they most need.” — Atul Gawande, surgeon
Why do we not talk about death? what is the cultural development that took place in the western sphere? does it stem from some strange interpretation of our religious past rooted in Judeo-Christian traditions? Or is some element that’s more recent grown out of capitalist culture that took root in post-war mainstream? We fear death, but we do not discuss it in a meaningful way. It’s as natural and necessary as any other aspect of our lives but it does not feature the same complexity, scrutiny or celebration that we give to birth, weddings, work, food or almost any other facet of life. Rather it’s something we shun or discuss in hushed tones and with a certain demure that is in some way either morbid or to be rushed over quickly as if it is a blight that needs to be washed away almost immediately upon realising it exists.
I read in an article that we must demystify death. It should not be something that happens in hospices, hospitals or some other space at a safe distance. There is gratitude in death, we see that in the science or art of those who have passed away recently and how they have lived their final days. Whether the full knowledge of their condition was made available to the public prior to the moment they passed. the examples that stick out most in my mind are David Bowie and Chadwick Boseman. Both giants in their own right who created to the end, leaving works to be appreciated in a new light in the posthumous environment. The question for myself at least, is that from this moment I want to acknowledge death with more depth and appreciation. The honesty and grace of life demands it. dying it central to the human condition and it must be raised to its appropriate stature.
Death envelopes us in daily statistics. It is a full frontal assault broadcast through multiple mediums. Numbers tallied by institutions such as John Hopkins and published on new and old media. Daily infections, daily deaths, and numbers in hospitals. what’s missing, and I think what many to acknowledge, is the humanism in all of this. Agency has been stripped out from the individuals who have died and decency and humility are absent for their families. It is simply transactional in that does of us who haven’t been affected are simply viewing this as the ‘cost’ that is paid until the world returns to some obtainable sense of ‘normalcy’. I do not want to diminish the notion that we will not recover, that’s not the idea, instead yearning for a past that has now been distributed is simply not been honest. Coronavirus as a concept will and forever more be entrenched. So does the its impact once the ‘match’ is finally over and we conduct the rigorous post match analysis.
I hope that this year opens up a new avenue for us to confront the topic so that we can celebrate life in its entirety and those who are no longer with us.
Writing this entry I think of Mike’s mum, who tragically took her own life after a tragic chapter of serious mental illness in her life. haven spoken with Mike is not completely understood the extent that the COVID impacted her, however, it’s indisputable that it did not. I also think of my childhood friend Matt Shaw. he was my best friend for many years. His infectious energy drew other towards him. I loved the time I spent with him and his family. We had countless adventures; riding bikes, building fortresses, watching him ride motorbikes, watching movies and family parties and events. I miss him and my heart goes out to his young family following his passing after a long battle with cancer.
