Most of the time I write about ideas that arise in my mind from books, podcasts or conversations. While I cover some of my personal perceptions, I also do my best to share other views to add depth to the conversation. This time is different. This time the largest thing on my mind is the fact that my older sister Ann is dying. And while I realize that talking about death can be difficult, and in some cases even repellent, my goal is to write about it in a way that reminds us all that the experience of death is something we share. Run from it or not, eventually death will touch us all. Sometimes the SMARTest thing any of us can do is stop, look it in the eye, uncover the story we believe about it—then explore ways that may benefit us as we live out the remainder of our life.
This isn’t my first rodeo. Both of my parents passed away several years ago and I was with them at the end. It’s hard. There is no way around it. While I lived nearby and managed to see them constantly during those last days, that didn’t seem to make the heartache easier. But I’d be wrong to ignore the fact that much of how I processed those experiences, just like this one, is directly related to the story I hold. In fact, I believe the story each of us tells about dying largely guides our experience. And while I have no proof, I can only assume that the story I claim will determine how I will feel when my time arrives.
Ann has cancer. It was discovered three or four years ago. Yes, cancer is a horrible thing but don’t most of us think the 
same thing about all dying? On the one hand, there is the grimness about death that most of us avoid thinking about if at all possible. There is pain, lots of discomfort, frailty, and dependence. It’s so easy in our ruggedly independent culture to see that experience as a tragedy, a loss—even an embarrassment. But again, much of that is the story our society tells about what it is like to die. And if we aren’t careful, we too can feel that unavoidable event will be nothing but a tragic story as well.
But there is good news. My sister is in her own home under the care of hospice who are doing their very best to manage her pain and needs. She is surrounded by her loved ones. All of her sisters, her children, her grandchildren and even great-grandchildren have been to visit and tell her they love her. She is nursed by devoted family members who are there with her 24/7. Now, in the final days of her life, she has our attention and company. What we are each acutely aware of is her enormous heart, and that our family will never be the same without her in it.
Yet again, that is my story about what is going on. This idea, that our stories about what is happening guides our experience, has been running over and over in my mind in the last few weeks. Adding to that is the powerful awareness that there is nothing I can personally do to change the situation. Peaceful acceptance is necessary. Sure, I can help with care and visit to support the rest of the family. I can urge hospice to increase her medication when she tells me she is in pain, but that’s it. Other than that, the only thing I can do is examine my story and write about it to process my own thoughts and emotion—and possibly helps others with theirs.
Of course, I didn’t arrive at my “story” suddenly. It is a combination of the experiences, reading, classes, study, conversations, and thoughts I’ve been holding and developing for years. A narrative of a benevolent Universe and reincarnation are reoccurring themes. In addition, two strong influences in recent times have been Byron Katie and Abraham-Hicks.
Katie continually asks people to examine their thoughts and see where they are fighting with reality. She would challenge anyone to question whether death or dying is a bad thing and then gently probe until a person realizes their struggle lies in how they think about the situation, not the actual situation itself. In other words, it’s the story we tell about the circumstance that influences our suffering or our liberation. While we can’t change a difficult situation, we have control over the story we tell ourselves about it. So why not tell another story?
Abraham-Hicks teaches something similar. She teaches that if we are experiencing emotional pain or unhappiness at any moment, it is because we remain focused on ideas and circumstances that are bringing us that heartache. She doesn’t deny that we will all eventually die or that pain in the body exists. But she maintains that pain in the mind is something we can alter by our perceptions. In other words, change our focus, and then change the story that we are telling ourselves.
If we keep telling ourselves that death is horrible and that we must do everything in our power to pretend it will never happen to us, then we are setting ourselves up with a story about the end of our earthly experience in a way that isn’t helpful. Because guess what? None of us will get out alive.
Of course, Abraham Hicks also insists that life is a continuum and that death is merely a transition to a new awareness. Obviously, that is her story and it makes sense to me. When you think about it, nearly every religion or spiritual path on the planet has a story about what happens when we die. The question is, which do we believe? Why? Do we really believe the story we claim to believe? Does that story bring us comfort? Does it scare us or liberate us?
Thom and I recently had a conversation with a young man named Brian. The discussion touched on business and Brian shared some ideas he had about different businesses he wanted to start. Unfortunately, several setbacks had occurred, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed—or whether they were even possible. “The trouble is,” he said unhappily, “I have a story in my mind about how my life is supposed to be—and it isn’t happening.” While the solution seemed very clear to Thom and me at the time, Brian couldn’t see that the easiest thing to do was to simply change his story. Sadly, most of us are very attached to our stories. We want to believe there is only one, and we hold the right one—even when they end up making us brutally unhappy.
For all of you who are thinking that it can’t be as easy as telling a new story, that too is a story you are telling yourselves. Why can’t it be that simple? Sure, telling Brian to change his story doesn’t have anything to do with critical issues like death, but his current version is clearly causing him pain. And remember, changing a story doesn’t change or deny the circumstance. Brian still doesn’t have his new business—but changing how he tells his story can shift his focus from feeling victimized to something that he can change, accept and possibly improve. And if he can get there in his consciousness, he is on his way to creating something better or at least more soothing to his mind and soul.
If we allow ourselves to explore the topic, I believe we can all change the story about how death will come in our lives and those we love. That doesn’t mean that we won’t experience deep emotion. I will miss my sister and all the memories that we share. But I can also realize that her passing can make me appreciate the days I have ahead in deeper and more profound ways. It can also remind me to never take those around me, and the things I love, for granted. And finally, to realize like author Cody Delistraty says, “…the truth about death is it does allow one — force one, really — to prioritize, to understand exactly what is important and what must be held on to at all costs.”
As a writer, the concept of our lives being the unfolding of our stories comes naturally to me. Author Richard Wagamese says it beautifully with, “All that we are is story. From the moment we are born to the time we continue on our spirit journey, we are involved in the creation of the story of our time here. It is what we arrive with. It is all we leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem important. We are story. All of us. What comes to matter then is the creation of the best possible story we can be while we’re here; you, me, us, together. When we can do that and we take the time to share those stories with each other, we get bigger inside, we see each other, we recognize our kinship – we change the world, one story at a time…”
Something I learned when my father passed is that many of us have a certain degree of choice in how we spend our last days on Earth. I’m also convinced that the quality of that experience will be determined by the story we hold in our heart. I don’t want to wait until I just have a few days left to decide what I believe and what happens next. I am certain that the stories we all create will be some of the most powerful intentions we can set for living a fulfilling and meaningful life for however much time we have left. Surely it is SMART to know we can all do the same.
Okay your turn: How do you feel about the idea that “all you are is story?” Why? And does your story of what happens before and after we die bring you comfort, depress, or scare you? Please share your thoughts in the comments below.
Kathy, I love the series of photos you have chosen showing you and Ann together as children. The photos reveal so poignantly your relationship growing up together, even as Ann is now passing from this life. You will always have your past, even as new plot twists unfold in your future story.
I too have lost immediate family members to death. Through it, I have learned to embrace the grieving process rather than running from grief. I cannot say that I have been able to embrace the process of dying itself, but I am more easy with it now and less fearful.
My heart goes out to you. Thank-you for sharing your story.
Jude
Hi Jude! It has been an emotional and heavily-processed couple of weeks for sure. But I am so very grateful that I am a writer and able to not only write my experience but to work it out with meaning and purpose. While others may, or may not be able to do the same, it sure helped me. And yes, the memories will always be there for each of us when we face the same experience ourselves. Thank you for your encouragement. ~Kathy
I don’t know how I missed this post, Kathy, but thank you for writing it. I can’t imagine that any circumstances around losing someone would make it easier, but I do agree that the story we have about death – or anything, for that matter – determines how we process any event. As someone who works with students to help them tell their stories digitally, I constantly witness how our stories affect our everyday life and act as a catharsis or a burden. And, as a human, who experiences joy and suffering, I know that when I’ve really suffered, often I only needed to change my story about what was happening to ease my own pain. Before I did that, nobody else’s words of comfort of persuasion could change how I felt.
Thank you for writing this, and now I’m so sorry for your loss. At the same time, I support the story that nothing and no one is ever really lost – it sounds cliche to say our loved ones live on in our hearts, and sometimes that may not be much comfort, but in my story, it’s true, and it does eventually bring comfort. Love to you and Thom, and all y our family as they process this change. ??
Hi Jamie. Thank you. I know you’ve had your own experience of losing a sibling and you know how it can bring up so much for a person. And I so appreciate you sharing how you work with your students and explain to them the power they hold in their own lives with their stories. While it doesn’t always take away the pain–it can definitely reduce the suffering. Namaste. ~Kathy
I’m so sorry Kathy. A couple of years ago, I went through this when one of my older sisters died. She was in the hospital for the last three weeks of her life, so I had time to prepare. Unfortunately, because she was on a breathing tube, she was also sedated. We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye in the way one would normally think of. Instead, every night I read to her from a book by one of our favorite authors. The nurses said she would be able to hear it and I hope it brought her as much comfort as it did to me. She was 15 years older and my life started with her reading to me and I was able to bring it full circle for her at the end of her life.
Hi Jennifer! Thank you for sharing this story with me and everyone else. It is a great reminder that there are always things that we can do to ease the passing for each other and also support one another when the time comes. ~Kathy
Thank you for your sharing. May God bless and comfort you and all those who are in mourning anguish, uncertainty and helplessness and all the darkest moments….through your praying kness and tears. I lost my father 6 years ago and my 4-year younger brother last April, and I’m still ‘in death’ from time to time. One of our Chinese beliefs is it takes 3 years for one to be healed from the sorrow and pain caused by the loss of a beloved family. For me, it seems not the case. A part of me also disappeared with them.
However, as a Christian, I should always keep praising the Lord for one day we will gather together with them in Him.
So sorry to hear about your sister. I lost one of my brothers a couple years ago and it was difficult. So glad she is surrounded by those who love her. It makes such a differencel
Hi Rebecca. Thank you. I think this is something all of us must go through and face at some time in our lives. I doubt it gets easier but at least we know we will survive. And I truly believe that it is a good reminder to make the most of each and every day! Thanks again for your comment. ~Kathy
So sorry to hear about your sister, Kathy. You have a beautiful story that people can share and get comfort from. Thoughts and prayers for you, your sister and your family.
Hi Meryl. Thank you. I so appreciate everyone’s support. It means a lot to me. ~Kathy
I want to extend my best wishes and thoughts to you during this time in your life. Two of my three sisters have passed away, as well as my parents, creating an environment where I have considered my own mortality. I recently read Atul Gawande’s book “Being Mortal”. This book transformed my thinking about aging and dying. I highly recommend it for anyone who is ready to consider mortality.
Hi Deborah. Thank you. I have that book on my short list to read. Thank you for recommending it. ~Kathy
Beautiful and thought provoking. Sharing over at A Healing Spirit’s FB page, thank you.
Hi Carol. Thank you. It was comforting to me and I hope others as well. ~Kathy
Hi Kathy – I’m sorry to hear about Ann. Best wishes to you and your family at this difficult time.
Best wishes go out to you, and Ann, for these last difficult days. I hope she can read this post — or that you can read it to her — because I’d say that she would find some comfort in it. Thanks for sharing.
Hi Tom! Thank you for recognizing the sentiment behind this post. A big intention was to process my own thoughts and hopefully offer comfort as well as a different “take” on the experience that others may not have considered. But I also realize that it isn’t for everyone including my sister. Ultimately I think it is good for us each to find a “story” or belief system that offers comfort, as well as helps us to live out the remainder of our lives in a way that brings us the most peace, happiness and satisfaction. May we all be guided in that direction! ~Kathy
Hi, Kathy – I am so sorry to hear about Ann. I agree with your other readers — this is a very beautiful and touching post. Sending warm virtual hugs to you right now. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family at this time.
Hi Donna! Thanks. It has been a challenging few weeks for sure but if we can get past the emotion of it all, I find it deep with insight and awareness. As I think you and most of my readers know, I try to grow from every experience. This one is overflowing in so many ways. It is also wonderful to feel the love from so many of my friends. Thank you. ~Kathy
I’m sorry to read that Ann’s last days have arrived. Such a difficult time. I’m glad that she is surrounded by loved ones, and that you have come to terms (again) with death and what all that means and will change.
The photos of you both as kids are cute – your smile hasn’t changed much, Kathy, and I didn’t know you loved horses.
As we have talked about in person before, I think a lot about death. And, so far, they are not happy thoughts. I totally agree with my life being a story, but that doesn’t take away how I feel about it ending. I like happy endings… It’s not fear. It’s something indiscribable, more a kind of being “mad” about the reason we’re here (especially not having children – there won’t be anyone around on my death bed if I’m fortunate enough to live a long, full life) to just get anihilated. Yep… I’ll try to change that story and hopefully, I can believe in something more positive after death at some point. But, for now that’s my belief.
I also agree we shouldn’t take anything for granted. I’m glad that I don’t. And, while acceptance is important when someone close to us passes away, I also believe we need some time to grieve and feel miserable, helpless and “unfair”.
Hi Liesbet! Thank you for pointing out how in the long run (or the short one!) our beliefs always stick with the storyline of our lives. And it’s never about judging another person’s story. I’m the first one to say that if your story/belief brings you comfort and answers the burning questions of your life, then embrace that story/belief for all it’s worth. I do sort of draw the line when people push their story on me or someone else…but then again, that’s MY story 🙂 I too believe we all need as much time to grieve or feel miserable as we want. That completely fits with my story about a person’s right to live their story. 🙂
And while I also don’t have any children, I truly believe (yeah it’s my story!) that I will be surrounded by the right loving people when the time comes for me. Of course that won’t magically just happen. I also believe that the intentions we set today guide what will occur in the future so only time will tell. Either way, I’m becoming more and more convinced that we need to talk about our expectations and story and get it out so we can examine it and realize where our fears are coming from. Then what’s the saying, either find the serenity in things we can not change, the courage to change what we can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Thank you as always for sharing your perspective of this. ~Kathy
You sum it up well in your last sentence, Kathy: “… you either find the serenity in things we can not change, the courage to change what we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
I am sorry to hear of your sister’s illness. It is so very difficult to stand by and be a witness to someone’s final days here on earth.
I love the idea that we are, each one, a story.
I work in healthcare and have been exposed to death from both sides of the bed. It is never easy but it should always be meaningful. It was listening to a young man my son’s age lament the end of his life that made me realize that I am here to be a witness to each person’s story. I may not know all the details but the brief interaction we have will always be a part of my own story. And in turn my story will somehow become a part of someone else’s story.
Keep those precious moments close.
Kathy, I’m so sorry to hear about Ann, and at the same time glad you’ve been able to work through the story around her illness and eventual passing so that it makes sense to you in the way that you need it to, and in a way that will support your grieving process. The photos in your post are simply precious, too. As for my feeling about “stories,” I completely agree, and still have to check in with myself daily/hourly as to what story I’m telling myself (I keep Byron Katie’s questions in my wallet, actually.) But ultimately, questioning our stories is what will help us through the most challenging situations in our lives. Peace to you and Ann both. xo
Hi Laura. Thank you. What a great idea keeping those questions handy so you remember them on a regular basis. However we go about remembering them is good because they really can liberate us from so much struggle. I find it such a practical way to bring myself back to my inner truth. I also get that the idea of it is challenging to other people, but IMHO (and Byron Katie’s of course!) it is far less “challenging” than fighting with what is happening!!! And thank you for your good wishes too. I hope everyone, everywhere is struggling with the experience of death also find the peace they need. ~Kathy
Thank you for writing this. We all have to think about death and face it eventually. I have experienced the deaths of many loved ones in the past few years and I find that I want to talk about death but others don’t. There seems to be a prevailing attitude that if you dont talk about it maybe it won’t happen.
Hi Michele! I so agree that it is tempting for us to avoid any topic that we are uncomfortable about–and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if some people don’t even want to read about it! Instead, so many of us put all our focus on trying to stay young-looking and super healthy in an attempt to live forever. That works until it doesn’t. Sure I believe in being preventive, but if all we do is deny what is going to happen eventually we are setting ourselves up for even more heartache. May we all find a story that encourages us to live as fully today as possible, well aware that everything changes as time goes by. I hope you have found peace with your experiences of dying and thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. ~Kathy
As you know, we lost my brother two years ago to cancer. So so many things changed and my “story” or my focus will never be the same. Other people can help so much or they can make it worse. Some relationships become much more consistent and strong while others fade. I try to listen well to grieving people and just empathetically nod and say “Uhuh…Uhuh…” None of us has their answers and we just move forward.
Hi Gary! Yes, I confess that even though I suspected it was a difficult time for you and your family, I don’t know if any of us can quite imagine what it is like until we are in the midst of it. If we are paying attention, I don’t see how it can’t change us in some way. And as you know, I completely agree that none of us has the answers for another–but hopefully, we find a story that works for us that allows us to move forward in peace and greater awareness. Thank you for your thoughts on this. ~Kathy
This post has moved me beyond words. I have spoken to death more than once. Here is an excerpt from one of my recent poems…
…
I know your icy fingers are eagerly
Whetting their nails
To dig deeper into my veins
I have just one request…
Come softly…tiptoe into my room
Clasp me gently in my sleep
I know you are not so nice
But you can’t be cruel to me twice.
Come when the sky is soft pink
I may not be awake to see
My soul would soak in the beauty
And leave this earth with good memories…
© Balroop Singh, 2018
Thank you Balroop. Very touching!
Thank you Balroop for your gift to us all. I don’t know about you but I feel so very blessed to be a writer and have the ability to write and process the thoughts and emotions that a major life event like death inspires. And yes, may we all leave this earth with good memories. ~Kathy
Oh, Kathy! This is so beautiful and touching. The pictures say so much about your relationship with your sister. Mostly, they tell us about the fun you had! I have an older sister who I love deeply. She showed me the way, and I can’t imagine life without her. But like you, I will face it when it comes—meanwhile treasuring every day.
Hi Diane. Thank you. I took the time to go through all my photos and the ones that spoke the loudest to me were these from when we were young. Our lives took very different directions as we aged but there is something very powerful about the fact that you’ve lived life together so very long–especially now that our parents and grandparents are no longer around either. It is VERY strange to think I will very soon be the oldest living relative in my family. May I face it, and we all face it when it happens to our loved ones and ourselves, with as much grace and peace as we can. ~Kathy
Yes! Someone who took my thoughts and put them in to words. Yay! My beloved has lymphoma. He is 75. Yesterday, we got a call from the oncologist saying treatment he started six months ago, (chemo) has kicked the oomph out of the tumors and they’ve shrunk to an unmeasurable size. Hurrah! For now. He has an incurable form of lymphoma (mantle cell) and he is 75.
We have found ourselves thinking about death a lot over the last few months. It is interesting to consider the how and the when of it all… and to imagine we get to decide that. We read books. We watch movies about times in history when death was rampant and all around our ancestors. We reflect on what we have done with our lives and what we would yet like to do. We talk with each other. Sometimes we sit holding hands and listen to our breath. And we practice gratitude as mindfully and consciously as we know how to. We wonder what a “death doo-lah” is. We will ask the google gods one day.
Today, however, we will be present. We will breathe and be and exercise. We will reach out to others who are suffering. We will practice kindness. We will do our chores together, try something new, and we will laugh… about something. We will re-write the story of our endings. We will give our grandchildren and great grandchildren something that we did not know how to give our own children… for all our trying.
Stories change as we change. We write and rewrite, frame and reframe, delete and restructure, and we build the reality we live, regardless of our circumstances. When I was younger, I was committed to the truth — the whole truth and nothing but the truth — black and white as it was. Life happened. I have learned that there are as many shades of truth as there are people on the planet. It is all a matter of perception and we each always have the power of choosing our perceptions, it seems to me.
Dear Ezme! Thank you so much for sharing your current path/story with all of us. And how wonderful that your current story includes good news when it comes to the lymphoma. And yes, I can only imagine how much the themes of living well and dying well have been running in your mind these days. Isn’t it such a reminder that much of the time we think about things that aren’t that important? Or about people that aren’t that important? I truly love how you are spending your days and your time doing things that bring you deep joy and peace….and at the core of it is deep love.
Most importantly, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing the story of how you are choosing to live out the days ahead of you. While I doubt that it is always easy, it is such a generous, heartfelt and peaceful way to live–no matter how much time any of us has here on the planet. Thank YOU for expressing it so brilliantly! ~Kathy
After 60+yrs, I’m learning to shed the story that I was told, the one that shaped the story I told myself and just be. I’m learning to surrender to what is and that includes death. I can only trust in the process. We tell ourselves a story about pain, discomfort, frailty, dependence and death and then we anticipate how it will be instead of just surrendering. I like your phrase – peaceful acceptance. I try not to tell myself a story because I really don’t know how it will go, how it will be. This far into life, I know that death is inevitable. I have witnessed death, been threatened by it, experienced grief and my life is richer for it. I know that those memories of deceased loved ones that once caused me emotional pain eventually brought me joy. I’ve asked WHY? until I didn’t have to ask anymore. And I believe that this business of dying is really about living.
Hi Mona. I so agree that dying is really about living. And one thing I am learning with my sister is that the way we live is a precursor of how we will be when we die (especially if it isn’t sudden) I certainly never thought about that before. As for the story, I do know there are many who believe that the “ultimate goal” is to let go of all story and “self” — but that is also likely to be a “story” as well. I have always believed there are many, many paths to God or Ultimate Realty but again, that also might just be my story. What it boils down to me at least, is your story bringing you peace and comfort? And if yes, it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks, right? Thank you so much for sharing a bit of your story with us. ~Kathy
Kathy, so beautiful. I too have long held that life is story … the one we are told and the one we tell ourselves. Within my story of living and dying, I am coming to believe that this life is only one small part of a larger journey. We are between the unknowns of before and after, and in that sense the story really has no beginning or ending.
Where I currently struggle is when something crashes in, blindsides us, and leaves us shockingly broken. It’s the tragedy of young death, sudden death, the shock and loss for those who have to find a way to put their brokeness back together.
This is when I want to rewrite the story: when I can’t and I’m left with a “why” that has no answer … that won’t have an answer, unless I create a certainty and, in so doing, also create a box that denies any further growth beyond its edges.
Ah, the ambiguity of it all.
Hi Tracey! Such a beautiful way of expressing this, “We are between the unknowns of before and after, and in that sense the story really has no beginning or ending.” And I agree that it mostly shakes us up when it happens unexpectedly. But can’t we create a new story about that too–one that is fluid and open enough to accept the mystery of life and death? My goal is to find a story where I am accepting and at peace with uncertainty and constant change where I know my true Self rests in the center of it all. I’m certainly not always clear on that, but I strive for it. And yes, “The ambiguity of it all!” Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this. ~Kathy
Kathy, I am coming to this truth so profoundly as well. We are the story we tell ourselves. We are freer than we know. How beautiful. My niece is a young mother. Like most born writers, she aches for the writing life, yet she has too many things on her docket right now, and they’re all good. But they crowd out writing. I told her, you need to stop agonizing and change the narrative. Think of a label for this time of life. She looked at me very sincerely for a long moment and then said, “Devotion. At this period of my life, I am devoted.” To her husband’s budding career, to her babies. To family. She will fan the little flame of writing, but for now, she is Devoted. Thank you for reiterating this important truth, and here’s a hug from a sister of the heart.
Hi Lynne! How wonderful that you were able to share that idea with your niece AND more importantly, that she was able to hear it. Oh what I would have given if someone could have explained that to me when I was that age. It’s taken me so many years to get here! And thank you for the hug blogger sister 🙂 ~Kathy