DEATH BECAME ME

Death is a masterclass in Life

Three years ago, Death came for me...not in a rush, but rather with a slow leeching of my life force.

Some people live their lives in denial of Death, but I’ve never been one of them.

I don’t come from good stock.

Three of my grandparents died young-ish, so I’d always had a sense that if I wanted to get something done in life, I should be quick about it.

Still, seeing the whites of Death’s eyes was sobering.

Before it happened, I was split between two attitudes:

Firstly, Life is bloody exhausting. I’ve often wondered why I signed up for it – if there was such a process. There are people. And issues. And hardship. And so much angst. Maybe I’d welcome the chance to be done with it. Let my atoms slosh around in the universal soup again.

Secondly, I’d get fierce. I’d put up a valiant fight. I’d make use of the stubbornness that’s served me so well.

But the truth shocked me.

I wasn’t ready to die.

Turns out when crunch time came, I’d much rather be alive than not.

And worse, when you’re dying, you’re dying. There is no fierce energy. That’s the whole point. Death is siphoning it away. Your Qi leeches out of your feet.

You can’t fight to stay alive because there is no energy to marshal.

Over the course of twelve months, I went from comfortably walking long distances, doing weights, yoga, and riding my bicycle to barely having the energy to move from room to room.

It was my heart.

Three undiagnosed birth defects had suddenly combined to create a health crisis. The diagnosis took nine months. By the time my open-heart surgery was scheduled I had, by my reckoning, about two weeks left in me.

When the surgeon’s administrator rang and wanted to shift my surgery by a fortnight I responded, with rare but crystal-clear assertiveness, that I knew scheduling must be a nightmare but if I had to wait any longer, I’d be dead.

She was quiet for a moment, then said: Okay. Sorry to bother you. Good luck.

But this is not about the ins and outs of my health journey. This is about Death.

Much to my surprise, I recovered. Then I was faced with some interesting ideas from other people.

I bet it was a ‘wake up’ call to appreciate life.

No. It wasn’t. I was already awake. I was already savouring the blue skies of summer and moments with my lover and watching my son and my step-kids grow into their lives and the sound of the first autumn rains on the roof and the taste of a delicious home-made meal and a fine wine and the hugs of my friends and family and the joy of creativity and music and…

Long before this crisis, I had taken the stoic approach. Although I had no external ‘memento mori’, I reminded myself every day that this could be the day I die.

Remember that you must die.

Sounds ghoulish? Try it this way: remember Death to celebrate Life.

In the months leading up to my surgery this really came to the fore. I had to lie on the floor five or six times a day (often under my desk at work). I could feel my heart working hard almost all the time. I might be in the middle of a conversation, but part of my mind was whispering: This might be the moment you die.

Here’s another one…

You probably just need to be more ‘open-hearted’ in Life.

Louise Hayes has a lot to answer for. I’ll just leave that one there.

I bet you don’t procrastinate any more.

I always sensed that I had a fire at my back. Life is short. Want to do something? Do it. We never met, but I’m sure Doris Lessing and I would’ve got on just fine. I’ve had this quote from her on my wall since I was a young adult:

“Whatever you are meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.”

And then Death got bored with me and turned away.

But it came for someone else…

Witnessing my father’s death less than a year after Death came for me, was a privilege and a major lesson in Life.

To sit with someone, to watch the delicate dance of surrender and resistance as their life force slowly leaves, with Death leaning up against the wall next the bed, waiting patiently – confident with the inevitability of it all…

To be there when that final exhalation leaves and no inhalation arrives, long after the conscious brain has quietened…

Well, that’s a thing.

And then there’s the mystery of it all.

Was there a part of him that found the window I left ajar? A place to whoosh away, to be free?

Come to think of it, where did ‘I’ go when they cut open my rib cage and stopped my heart? How did I know to come back? Did I come back as me or someone else? How would I know?

I know Death will come back for me.

And I’m one hundred percent sure Death will come for you, too.

What we do between now and then is up to us.

Thanks for reading!