Today let's talk about death, ok? Why not? If everybody's talking about life all the time, why not talking about death every now and then? And how do you talk about death? What do you really want from us, Asher?
I want to be able to talk about my dead daughter - my Liami - in the same way I talk about the living ones. But in our society that's not something people do. Try saying the word "death" - in any form or context - and the conversation mutes at once. Or everybody's leaving the room, finding "things to do". Disappearing. Changing the subject. Just not to talk about death. We are "allowed" to talk about other losses: drained out retirement funds, work loss, divorce, medical problems, etc. Just not about death. Death is taboo.
And if, very unwillingly, people are talking to me about Liam's death, in most cases I immediately feel that they feel sorry for me. And I don't want anybody to feel sorry for me. I want to be able to talk freely about any subject, including Liam (who is dead now, I'm sure you noticed by now). So that's it. I can talk about her here, in my blog, as much as I want.
Well, the term "talk about death" is probably inaccurate. However, there are too many cases in life when I feel that the taboo status our society treats death with, prevents me of mentioning Liam. It puts me in jail and shut my mouth. Here are some examples:
• When in a friendly conversation people as me how many kids I have.
• When somebody asks me what I did over the weekend (I went to visit my daughter's grave, how about you? Did anything interesting?)
• If I want to put her picture on my desk at work. A picture would necessitate a story. And, well, you get my point.
etc., etc. etc. Any answers I'd give to any of the above questions is likely to throw a bomb in the room.
It seems to me that death itself is not "negative", right? Death is just a situation - just like life. What leads to death is usually viewed as negative, and rightfully so, in most cases (I can't think of one that is not). But death itself is just a transfer "mechanism" (for a lack of a better word) to, well, to something yet unknown to us. We're sad about the separation from a loved one. That's natural and instinctive. But why do we refrain from talking about it?
A good friend told me that telling people at the work place cannot be a good thing and might even be "dangerous". People look at you differently and the company may be biased against "special needs". Nobody wants anything out of the ordinary. It's hard for me to accept or believe this as true. If it's true, it's stupid and absurd. And I'm sure most Americans would deny it. But I don't want to take the risk. In a society where you can't reveal that you're gay, how can you reveal that you lost your 14.5 years old daughter? It's not exactly a don't-ask-don't-tell, just a don't-tell.
So yes, I'm hiding Liam from those who never met her and don't know our history. I'm hiding her during social events, business meetings, every day work, etc. I'm hiding her both when I know that the conversation would become awkward and when I don't know what the consequences might be. I'm swallowing a cotton ball every time the subject threatens to pop into the conversation. Apparently, burring her 6-feet deep was not enough to hide her. And I feel I live my life in a lie.
The cruel irony is that when Liam was still with us, we were always very proud of her. That is also a mini-taboo in our society, by the way. People often have to "hide" their special need kids. Not us. We were proud of her and I believe we taught society how to treat her (and us). And the irony is that now that she's gone and there's nothing to hide any more, now it's a taboo. That's how screwed our society is.
There are some people who are very private anyway. To them maybe such situation (of hiding the dead) wouldn't be a big deal. But I'm not such a person. I like to be open to all and about everything. Unfortunately, this is the society we live in. Even if I had a lot of money and wisdom and fame, it's quite unlikely that I could change society. But, if I had the money at least I wouldn't have to hide her like I do now. And maybe that would have left a little dent on the way society treat is. (So what, at the end of the day is it all about money???)
In short, anybody who reads this post can feel free to talk to me about death.
And after we brought her home from the hospital, we just waited. And as expected, Liam, who in the past several weeks/month needed special medical attention to survive; Liam, who in the entire past year we were afraid to give her Morphine for her pain in fear that she'd stop breathing - all of the sudden started breathing on her own. As if from under the Morphine she said "I can breathe by myself, I can do it". The typical fighting spirited Liam. The same brain, which had so much trouble ordering the body to breathe, suddenly worked flawlessly. Fooling us. And what you, the parent, hear, is "I don't want o leave you yet". And the doubts continue to nag you - are we doing the right thing?
But we made a decision and we stuck to it. It was a one-way, deadened street (no pun intended). We could not turn back and was nowhere to go anyway. In truth, we didn't do much. We just allowed nature to take its course. We just saw that Liam wouldn't suffer.
We knew several minutes before that it's about to end. We sensed it. When the moment arrived, I placed the stethoscope on her chest and listened. Then I buried my face in her neck, just like I did so many times before during our 14.5 years long honeymoon, and she would giggle with delight. I looked around me and my eyes said "that's it". The girls washed her body and put flowers around her. When they arrived to take her body away, I picked my Liami, just like I did so many times before in the past 14.5 years - from bed to the wheelchair, to the bath, to the X-ray table, to the OR bed, to her bike, to the swing in the playground, to the airplane - and I laid her in their bed. This time she didn't laugh or complain. And she was a bit cold. And maybe a bit heavier than ever before. And they took her away. The end.
Tissue.
As much as it's painful for me to talk about the above, you're still welcome to talk to me about it. Well, you're welcome to try. Either I will or I won't.
I want to be able to talk about my dead daughter - my Liami - in the same way I talk about the living ones. But in our society that's not something people do. Try saying the word "death" - in any form or context - and the conversation mutes at once. Or everybody's leaving the room, finding "things to do". Disappearing. Changing the subject. Just not to talk about death. We are "allowed" to talk about other losses: drained out retirement funds, work loss, divorce, medical problems, etc. Just not about death. Death is taboo.
And if, very unwillingly, people are talking to me about Liam's death, in most cases I immediately feel that they feel sorry for me. And I don't want anybody to feel sorry for me. I want to be able to talk freely about any subject, including Liam (who is dead now, I'm sure you noticed by now). So that's it. I can talk about her here, in my blog, as much as I want.
Well, the term "talk about death" is probably inaccurate. However, there are too many cases in life when I feel that the taboo status our society treats death with, prevents me of mentioning Liam. It puts me in jail and shut my mouth. Here are some examples:
• When in a friendly conversation people as me how many kids I have.
• When somebody asks me what I did over the weekend (I went to visit my daughter's grave, how about you? Did anything interesting?)
• If I want to put her picture on my desk at work. A picture would necessitate a story. And, well, you get my point.
etc., etc. etc. Any answers I'd give to any of the above questions is likely to throw a bomb in the room.
It seems to me that death itself is not "negative", right? Death is just a situation - just like life. What leads to death is usually viewed as negative, and rightfully so, in most cases (I can't think of one that is not). But death itself is just a transfer "mechanism" (for a lack of a better word) to, well, to something yet unknown to us. We're sad about the separation from a loved one. That's natural and instinctive. But why do we refrain from talking about it?
A good friend told me that telling people at the work place cannot be a good thing and might even be "dangerous". People look at you differently and the company may be biased against "special needs". Nobody wants anything out of the ordinary. It's hard for me to accept or believe this as true. If it's true, it's stupid and absurd. And I'm sure most Americans would deny it. But I don't want to take the risk. In a society where you can't reveal that you're gay, how can you reveal that you lost your 14.5 years old daughter? It's not exactly a don't-ask-don't-tell, just a don't-tell.
So yes, I'm hiding Liam from those who never met her and don't know our history. I'm hiding her during social events, business meetings, every day work, etc. I'm hiding her both when I know that the conversation would become awkward and when I don't know what the consequences might be. I'm swallowing a cotton ball every time the subject threatens to pop into the conversation. Apparently, burring her 6-feet deep was not enough to hide her. And I feel I live my life in a lie.
The cruel irony is that when Liam was still with us, we were always very proud of her. That is also a mini-taboo in our society, by the way. People often have to "hide" their special need kids. Not us. We were proud of her and I believe we taught society how to treat her (and us). And the irony is that now that she's gone and there's nothing to hide any more, now it's a taboo. That's how screwed our society is.
There are some people who are very private anyway. To them maybe such situation (of hiding the dead) wouldn't be a big deal. But I'm not such a person. I like to be open to all and about everything. Unfortunately, this is the society we live in. Even if I had a lot of money and wisdom and fame, it's quite unlikely that I could change society. But, if I had the money at least I wouldn't have to hide her like I do now. And maybe that would have left a little dent on the way society treat is. (So what, at the end of the day is it all about money???)
In short, anybody who reads this post can feel free to talk to me about death.
And after we brought her home from the hospital, we just waited. And as expected, Liam, who in the past several weeks/month needed special medical attention to survive; Liam, who in the entire past year we were afraid to give her Morphine for her pain in fear that she'd stop breathing - all of the sudden started breathing on her own. As if from under the Morphine she said "I can breathe by myself, I can do it". The typical fighting spirited Liam. The same brain, which had so much trouble ordering the body to breathe, suddenly worked flawlessly. Fooling us. And what you, the parent, hear, is "I don't want o leave you yet". And the doubts continue to nag you - are we doing the right thing?
But we made a decision and we stuck to it. It was a one-way, deadened street (no pun intended). We could not turn back and was nowhere to go anyway. In truth, we didn't do much. We just allowed nature to take its course. We just saw that Liam wouldn't suffer.
We knew several minutes before that it's about to end. We sensed it. When the moment arrived, I placed the stethoscope on her chest and listened. Then I buried my face in her neck, just like I did so many times before during our 14.5 years long honeymoon, and she would giggle with delight. I looked around me and my eyes said "that's it". The girls washed her body and put flowers around her. When they arrived to take her body away, I picked my Liami, just like I did so many times before in the past 14.5 years - from bed to the wheelchair, to the bath, to the X-ray table, to the OR bed, to her bike, to the swing in the playground, to the airplane - and I laid her in their bed. This time she didn't laugh or complain. And she was a bit cold. And maybe a bit heavier than ever before. And they took her away. The end.
Tissue.
As much as it's painful for me to talk about the above, you're still welcome to talk to me about it. Well, you're welcome to try. Either I will or I won't.
