The Grim Repair

We have in the past months been given a running commentary in the press and media on the forthcoming demise of a young woman, wife and mother who was thrust into the spotlight via unreality television and who was laughed at, vilified and since her diagnosis of cancer has become another subject of a nation's gathering to its bosom - not quite the people’s princess but in the same ilk This blog is not about her nor is it about her decision to do deals on her dying while continuing to live out her last in the public eye - that is her choice however, heart wrenching or gut wrenching depending on one's view of her and her entrepreneur spirit world.

It did however get me thinking about a number of things relating to death and dying and reminded me of an ongoing feature in the local paper which asks people in the public eye if they would prefer a quick death or time to prepare; not much of a choice is it?. It didn't interest me enough to be able to recall the statistics but I am now wondering if that question was asked to the nearest and dearest of the dearly departed what would be their choice? Ok they don't have a choice but if there was a choice. The long goodbye versus the short sharp shock. The tree felled in one chop or taken down branch by branch; having been the nearest and dearest in both forms of deforestation, neither is a choice and both cause distress and, I think, leave a different after shock. I am also wondering when the point of losing a person occurs – when that person finally sheds his or her mortal coil or when that person as a result of their illness/disease changes more than the ageing process brings.

Back to that young woman in the midst of her own dying, doing it her own way with a reading public catching its breath as she struggles for hers. As I write this I am asking myself why should dying people have to be out of sight, perhaps she has it right and a celebration of her death should be as much a celebration of her life.

The this came to mind:

Death Be Not Proud

by John Donne (1571-1632)

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,

For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.