By Jim Selman | Bio
Do you know that terrible sinking feeling when something really bad happens that you didn’t expect—something that you know will have a major and probably permanently negative impact on your life and the lives of those you love—and there is nothing you can do about it?
Many of us have these kinds of feelings whenever we witness a disaster or tragedy unfolding on the news. We can’t get the pictures of what is happening out of our minds. We proclaim, “It’s awful”.
By Jim Selman | Bio
This has been a sad week. My partner’s mother died at the
age of 94. Even when the end is expected (and perhaps even welcomed after a
long period of decline), it nonetheless has a powerful impact on those who
cared. All of the clichés aside, there just isn’t much to say to the bereaved
other than “I am sorry for your loss.” As we get older, death and dying becomes
a larger part of our day-to-day reality as we lose friends and loved ones.
By Rick Fullerton | Bio
For much of my life, I have had a private conversation about dying. It began as a young child, probably triggered by overhearing my parents talking about people fighting cancer or other scary diseases. When I was 12 and our family doctor knocked on the schoolroom door, my first thought was that he had figured out I was going to die. I was shocked to discover he had come to tell me my father had died of a heart attack at just 53. I was devastated! Our family survived, mainly due to the strength and resourcefulness of my mother, along with a supportive extended family and local community. As for me, I learned to deal with my fears mainly through my internal conversations. Never as I child did I talk about this secret and only rarely in later life. Yet looking back, it is possible to see how this fear of dying influenced many of my life decisions and shaped the person I am today.I
got married when I was 21—much too young according to my Aunt Laura!
But my wife and I were anxious to get on with raising a family. No time
to waste seeing the world or pursuing idle interests! In those days of
single incomes and stay-at-home moms, my role was clear and I was
determined to provide for my family. Duty called!
As life’s
milestones passed, my conversations about dying changed. At 30, I was
apparently in perfect health—no evidence of cancer,
Randy Pausch, a 46-year-old Carnegie Mellon computer science professor, diagnosed with terminal cancer, gives his last lecture. He urges us to play the cards we are dealt, have specific dreams, enable the dreams of others and ourselves, and to understand that obstacles are opportunities for us to show how badly we want things and to demonstrate our commitment. View the 18-minute ABC video or the full Live Life to the Fullest lecture.
In loving memory of my mother, Ruth Selman (1920-2007), who passed away this morning at 11:20 am.
I am distracted by thoughts of dying, My actions blown away on wasted winds of imagination and thoughts I cannot think or speak.I celebrate tomorrow and yearn for yesterdays,
The weakness of a restless soul longing for realities unlived and lost forever in the desert of forgotten dreams.I am longing to disappear in a transcendent moment,
Able to relate in a comforting embrace and forget the lost moments of unexperienced possibilities and unconsummated potential.I am too many people in too many times,
Filled with the pain of seeking what cannot be sought and hoping for resolution of unasked questions that have no answers.I have circumnavigated the Universe eight times and seven,
Being both lighthearted and a dark cloud without reason, knowing only that I AM and always will be searching, without sleep or time to rest.I am movement itself, without form or fashion, direction or goal,
Forever trapped in this prison of time and space, physical without form and spiritual without Being or power beyond myself.I am beyond mere words—a silence embracing the absence of sound.
Rebirth isn’t possible when we cannot die or find an ending to the process we began so long ago—before we knew the cost of time.I am Yesterday, Tomorrow and Forever, surrounding both life and death,
Now cannot be me, but it is all there is, and therefore I am not and never was—until someone finds me waiting for them for all eternity.By Kay Costley-White
The most joyful person I have ever met was a young man dying of AIDS. Chris’s path to serenity had been long and difficult. In the early 1990s, his family, afraid of their community’s reaction to his gay lifestyle, rejected him. He moved from central Canada to Vancouver, developed a family of choice, and lived with a partner committed to a life-long relationship. But his partner and many of his friends died of AIDS. Then his place of employment found out the reason for his many absences for sick leave, and he was fired on the spot. Later, life-threatening infections kept him in hospital, too weak to care for himself. When I knew him, he understood that there was no hope for a cure or prolongation of his life. Medicine could do nothing beyond keeping him comfortable, and he was facing his imminent death. ButBy Kay Costley-White
A lot is written these days about aging gracefully. As we approach our senior years, we also become aware of a vague dread: we don’t want to acknowledge our fear of dying.Evolution, while fitting us
with an urgent will to survive and multiply, also equipped us with a
powerful, instinctive fear of death. It is perfectly normal and natural
to have a strong aversion to anything to do with it. Many people end
their lives without ever addressing the issue. But if we choose to open
up to this part of our genetic makeup, what is it really about? Does it
relate to the course of illness leading to the body’s demise,
I visited my Mother this week. She is 87 and not well. A lifetime of smoking has caught up with her and she is fighting emphysema every day. For the first time in a while, I came face to face with the reality that she is dying. Her comment to me is that “I don’t mind dying but don’t like dying this way”. These thoughts aren’t about not smoking, although as an ex-smoker, it is remarkable how that addiction can warp our judgment. My mother continues smoking to this day—now protesting
I came home still a little teary and deeply moved after seeing Peter O’Toole’s new film Venus,
a tour de force about a love affair, albeit chaste, between Maurice, an
aging (80 something) lothario, and Jessie, an angry and unsophisticated
young woman (20 something). I was eager to read the reviews and shocked
to find that most viewers had put it down (6 on a scale of 10) largely
About 3 hours until the ball drops and we all sing Auld Lang Seins
and kiss someone close to us. This year had an early dinner, shared
resolutions and went through the ritual of ‘completing’ 2006. I notice
that staying up until midnight somehow isn’t what it used to be.
Nonetheless, this is a special day no matter how cavalier I may be
about it. Every culture seems to have a New Year. I suppose if you are
Jewish and Chinese, you could have three New Year