I have often wondered what it would be like to be the last one to die - the last of a large family of children, the last of a close group of friends, the last person on Earth. Last week they had the funeral for Officer Chestnut (killed in that shooting at the US Capital). Main roads were shut down for hours for the procession and helicopters were flying overhead, hovering for hours to cover the event. Thousands of people turned out to line the street and cram the church. I wondered, if I died, how many people would come to my funeral. The answer is - not many! But, does it matter? It doesn't mean that no one would miss me. Funerals are really for the living and probably most of those who attended that one had never met the living Officer Chestnut. Ah, yes, "a new sense of mortality". How about a new sense of "Vitality"? as in an understanding of how precious life is? How little of it is actually left in which to touch other lives and make a difference? How vital it is to nurture? Of course it gets back to whether or not one believes or has faith that there is something to move on toward. 
Kallisto 

All of the sudden, it seems like so many people I know are dying. Age 55 or so. I am still trying to accept the fact that parents now die at this age, but hadn't given much thought to the loss of contemporaries. Any thoughts here? How do you others face the mortality issues of midlife? jinell

Well I am still trying to cope with <the mortality issues of midlife> too so I don't really know, but in the interview with Caroline Heilbrun on the radio she mentioned that some women wondered about the title of her book "Life after sixty" wondering why age 60, as they said it also applied to them. They were younger but had breast cancer or were coping with other terminal disease. I forget exactly Heilbrun's words but it did have to do with needing to accept the challenge of mortality or some such thing, just like we are talking about now. 

So this challenge leads to freedom? I can see this if we are truly able to leave off the unimportant things in life and concentrate on living. 

I just came back today from my weekly meals on wheels delivery. One of the men I deliver to had a bunch of balloons hanging by his door and I asked him what the occasion was. It was his birthday and he just turned 80. He said, jokingly that his family was celebrating but he was not. After talking a bit further he let it out that on this day he was really missing his wife, she had died suddenly and unexpectedly about 10 years ago of a heart attack. Darn, this is silly, I am not explaining this very well, I was listening to this, very open conversation with this practically a stranger, and I felt in contact with something, real feelings. I'm not certain how this pertains to the topic of mortality, but somehow inside <I> felt that it did. I wish I could explain. Perhaps the fact that this man could talk about his feelings, and I do think this is something that comes with age. 

Then I went on to another client, whose husband is now in a nursing home with Alzheimers. She too was matter of factly talking about death, and hoping that she will go easily with a heart attack. Quite hopeful and cheerful. These are not depressed people, they are full of life and doing things. They seem to have accepted the reality of life and death. I guess that acceptance is still to come for me. 

Maybe I am just keying into these conversations now because I am the right age? This summer while I was on holiday I made it a point to visit some of my elderly relatives, it was a shock to see how they had aged since I had last seen them. But they too were matter of fact about <mortality> but very much aware and concerned about the health of their brothers and sisters. I sensed a closeness that I was not aware of before in the family and was pleasantly surprised when one uncle, who was very quiet and usually left my aunt to do the talking gave me a hug on leaving,( we are not a demonstrative family). 

So in summary, I too just heard about a childhood friend that was dead, fear that soon one or the other of my parents, both still living will die, and now realistically know that either my husband or myself will die first, and we need to plan accordingly. And I wonder and speculate what will happen, who will go first, do I want to be the survivor. Sighhhh. 

But the older people I meet have done this too and they seem so full of life. So I have hope. This discussion has been good for me. I guess I am just a post meno newbie. 
Kathryn

Here's the next repost as promised - I think it's relevant to the current musings on mortality and somewhat echoes Kathryn's thoughts about the shift in attitude as one ages. I originally posted it to asm last year, in response to the (edited) comment below. 
 

I'm not sure what is wrong with having fear of death and decay show. I fear both. Maybe in another 40 years, I won't. Is the general consensus that we should accept both without regret?

I think that you have hit upon an essential point here - the difference that age makes to this fear or lack of it. At 63 I am not afraid of death anymore - or even of "decay" but I certainly was in my early 50s. I don't think there is anything wrong with admitting to this fear - indeed if you don't admit it nobody is going to see any need to reassure you. 

For me it was a horrifyingly scary event when I first was totally unable to recall something I thought I knew really well, and equally bad one day when I was totally unable to figure out how to fit two parts together (I don't remember what of;-) I sat down and cried - and I was _not_ a crier, having being brainwashed into the idea that only sissies cry. My husband laughed and said not to worry he'd have it done for me right away - but it was the fact that I couldn't do it myself that had flung me into panic and despair. I was certain that I had now started the inexorable slide into Alzheimers... My decreased memory continued to worry me terribly for quite a while - despite the fact that it was still good, it was nothing like my formerly phenomenal one. I had perforce to change my whole way of operating and started to shift into gentler more diffuse mode and became more inclined to delegate and trust other people more. Gradually as time wore on, I became used to it and since it didn't get any worse I stopped worrying so much. "Decay" no longer seemed quite so inevitable. 

My most troublesome perimenopausal problems were mental/emotional and over a year or so I did huge amounts of reading of philosophy/religion/psychology trying to reassure myself about things which had troubled me for a long time. In the process I also indulged in much navel-gazing and soul-searching and in the end emerged with a new view of the workings of the cosmos and my place in it. A combination of what was then called the "new physics" and spirituality resulted in my coming to view death as an interesting excursion into new territory and I was and am perfectly content(even pleased) to be recycled in the future. 

That was death - and death is final. But what about decay - what about the _manner_ of dying? I didn't have that problem settled yet but I was healthy and not much deteriorated from before so I didn't waste much time worrying about it. I had always trusted my body to do what was required and very rarely went to the doctor. All the hype about osteoporosis etc hadn't started yet so I welcomed period cessation and even more my new unheard of emotional stability. I had known plenty of old female battle axes and I had no expectation of being anything other than a force to be reckoned with until my dying day. 

Then my doctor retired and the new one suggested HRT. He was very reasonable and insisted it was my decision and did his best to educate me about it. He said he was in favour of it on the whole - but it was my decision and I made the decision to give it a try. At *that* point I started to decay. The provera made me nauseous etc and I had to cut it down to the point where I wondered if it were effective and I started saying I'd seen the doctor more in the last year then in the previous twenty. 

This doctor moved away, his replacement was young and inexperienced so insisted on doing everything by the book and doing every test available as a baseline (Canada here - he didn't profit) before he'd take anybody on - and there was no other doctor. He immediately found a breast "thickening" and said get off premarin this instant then go for a mammogram - which came back OK so I had to go for an ultrasound. Throughout this time I was becoming more and more despairing and panicky, having fits of uncontrollable shakes in the middle of the night, being scared to be left alone and soon onto lorazepam. Meanwhile, he's ordered an EKG without telling me, found a strange noise in my carotid artery so sent me off for an echo testing thingy while muttering about my parents unfortunate deaths by strokes. Follow that up with a visit to the cancer specialist - breast Ok, cardiac specialist - arterial noise weird yes but doesn't seem to matter any, and I emerge extremely shaken after a month of my whole body-health image being attacked. By then I was convinced that I was indeed decaying and a terrible lingering death lay ahead for me. 

Well says the doc now you can go back on the premarin provera routine. No thank you say I - I don't need it. Osteoporosis he says Naah say I - no risk factors. DEXA scan - 23% loss. No hormones say I, no way. Didronel then - 2weeks on every three months OK Try it for a year - 1st and third OK, 2nd and 4th hell on earth. Quit that. 

So after 6 years trouble free post menopause, I suffer 2 ½ years increasing decay caused by my extreme suggestibility to well meaning scaremongering, and the ill effects of drugs which may or may not have helped the proposed deterioration I never knew I was suffering from. Not exactly a good use of medicine in my case I think. So here I was at 62 feeling unconcerned at the prospect of death as such but nevertheless leery as to how I would go about doing it. I had contemplated breast cancer and cardiovascular disease and the cancer threat was infinitely worse. The intensity of my response to the prospect of mutilation amazed me. Like everybody I think, I most feared a lingering death - give me a good plane crash or a massive stroke. 

Then a good friend who had been "cured" of breast cancer 27 years before confessed that for the last five years the cancer had been back and it had spread throughout her body. She had told no one except her family till it could no longer be hidden because she had seen what had happened to others who did - they ceased being related to as who they were and became defined by their cancer. About 9 months later she died - but in those months she demonstrated to me that "decay" is no excuse for not living. Despite becoming weaker and weaker, she cracked jokes, and was always interested in what was going on. She showed absolutely no self pity and incredibly felt very little pain, only having morphine on the last day though her doctors could not believe that she was not in agony given the x rays. She died at home in peace and with her life in order. Watching her those months eradicated my fear entirely and I now know that physical decay can be ignored and spiritual life will continue as usual. I feel infinitely freed by this realization and consider it the greatest gift she gave me in 27 years of friendship. (I also make my motto "Do it now"!) 

If you're still with me (I didn't expect to be so long)this is a roundabout way of saying I think it's normal to be afraid at your age, but equally normal to accept without regret at an older age - though it takes some work and a faith in the inherent rightness of things. And so far as I'm concerned , the less drugs for "prevention" the better. 

Great to hear your full story, tishy. There is much that can be learned from it. Makes me think that I should try to tell my tale too to see if I can find out where I am going on this whole mortality issue. 

My understanding right now is that the train has left the station, I will die and there is no way to not plan for this as the ultimate outcome, yet it seems so far away and abstract that those are easy words to say. This may also be because both my parents are still alive and living independently in their early 80's, though in a bit of pain primarily due to joints and back, but no hint yet of what their terminal illness might be. And acquaintances are already starting to die right now. 

This disease thing too is an issue I think about. Which one of the possible terminal illnesses will be mine. I joke that I will be killed by a terrorist bomb in North Africa when I am in my 80's on a scuba diving trip. Being ill or infirm has not been in my life history so I can not contemplate a physical infirmity. 

After my divorce over 20 years ago, I have lived pretty much by my own schedule and choices so there is little that I have not been able to do that was part of my life wish list. It -has- been a selfish life. And this feels like a loss in some ways now as there are no things on the horizon or unmet expectations which can fuel my present interests. Nothing outside of my own life and my own choices is making any demands upon me. Life is basically good and right now it is just more of the same. A bit of adventure travel in remote parts of the world, civic activities, a few days of satisfying work and occasional high cultural events. 

But much of what I do feels a bit like make-work, a forced filling of time and I wonder how retirement in 10 years will feel. I envy a bit those with families and relationships only for the drive they add to one's life. But I also think that I am now too content in singlehood to make much effort to add someone into my life. But this is still an open possibility. 

Retirement is my next 10 year plan. I see myself doing house exchanges for several months in foreign countries and immersing myself in different cultures and languages. I see myself involved in life-long learning whether in our local adult education classes or Elderhostel. But I don't see myself developing any totally new interests that passionately absorb me, and that I miss. Yet the computer is something totally new and it has had a consuming passion in my life, so I guess I can not make any guesses about what else, unknown now, that will be on my horizon that may momentarily take over my life. 

A mission, a passion. They used to touch me unbidden, but now they seem to be only from a conscious choice and this is an entirely different orientation for me now. I can choose, but what do I choose. I can remember hating and getting ripped apart by consuming passions that felt they came from outside of myself, but now there seems to be a heavy burden knowing that I an now captain of my own ship. 

I love learning new things. I just love finding a subject that totally absorbs all of my interest, as the subject of menopause absorbed me for the last 3 years. This was a fascinating exploration for me. It was a mental trip into terra incognita. A blank slate that took every part of my intellectual, emotional and intuitive being to transverse. 

So I guess I am seeing my life in 10 year chunks right now, where death in its randomness could enter at any time. The next 10 years is preparing for retirement in making sure I have adequate financial resources and that my options remain open to even continue working or changing what I do for a living or not working at all. I love the idea of not -having- to work, that a income check will come in regardless. But I do not mind actually working. I have jobs that can continue part time but they are tyrants right now working against any spontaneous planning and that is what I think I will like best after retirement. That I can have the income and the time flexibility to follow my whims. This sounds so great. 

There is little unfinished external business left in my life. I wanted to travel around the world and I did extensively. I followed all of my educational goals and I feel very involved and productive in the community I live in so should I die tomorrow, it would be okay. But I simply do not think of this as real possibility and I wonder how hollow my words like this would actually be if I did have to face a terminal health crisis. 

My emotional life traveled from the pits to the peaks as Gail Sheehey talked about in "New Passages" over the last 20 years, esp post divorce. I conquered (by surrendering to and learning from) both a life-long clinical depression and debilitating panic attacks and feel that this was my most important personal work. I relish every day since 1986, when my life finally turned a new corner and my long dark night of the soul finally came into the light of inner safety and security. I also survived a co-dependent relationship with an exceptionally charming alcoholic and that too was an accomplishment of deep inner pride. I was emotionally at loose ends during all that time my other women friends were raising their children. My concerns were far more selfish and self-centered, but my entire survival seemed to depend on my own years of indulgent introspection. Those years were my late 30's to early 40's. My grimmest years. 

I stay away from doctors as I do not want them trying to scare me. I feel healthy, have good health habits and feel doctors will find something, anything wrong with people our age, yet not really know what is normal and okay versus their implicit need to find something wrong. 

I am committing to my future by remodeling my kitchen which is the largest commitment I have made recently in my life. My house is almost paid for. I live modestly, but in a wonderful area and have a very convenient life so I miss little by my modest lifestyle. I gain a good deal of freedom by these life simplifying choices and as I said, right now that is my goal. 

I realize my life in the past has had these 10 year goal increments. First ten were devoted to marriage and grad school for my former husband and a new house. (20's) Then 10 years of divorce and adjusting to the single life style. (30's) Then 10 years of going back to school and developing a new career (40's). And now my 50's have been this laying low and preparing for retirement phase which I am in the middle of right now. So I guess if all I can really do is contemplate the next 10, the 60's, I see it as my freedom decade to follow whims and not be tied to any daily responsibilities and obligations. 

Right now I will leave the 70's for another time, to construct while I am in my 60's. But each stage has had its tragedies and rewards and there is just about nothing that I regret. Each thing was in its own time. I think it took me a really long time to "grow-up." But I do feel pretty responsible today for the way my life is going so lengthy in process or not, it was hard work but done pretty well, in the long run for me today. 

My long ramble to add to this thread. And also remember vividly when I too broke down and cried at the beginning of menopause after misplacing my car keys. I had always been able to reconstruct my prior activities and retrace my steps to find missing articles. But in those early days, I finally realized something had happened to that kind of steel trap mind I used to have and I could not even remember my past actions from even a few minutes ago after arriving in my house with my keys in hand. This is when luckily I heard about's Sheehey's new book "Silent Passages" and my two year older sister also talked about losing her short term memory too. And in time I realized that I had also lost all of my obsessive and punishing thoughts from the past and my punishing thoughts about the future along with my short term memory and I decided that in all, this memory loss was a good thing for me. It demanded that I live consciously in the present and not just go through my day kind of "sleepwalking" and not being really aware of what I was doing in exactly every moment. 

I geared down to be much more in the present and thought through my everyday acts far more consciously, so again this just was not a bad trade-off. Plus as soon as I bought a hand-full of extra keys, I never lost another one again. Were the extra keys a placebo effect? And I developed coping skills and a steady supply of notes to myself or a mental discipline to remind myself to put my keys in one place -always- and to -always- remind myself where my car was parked and -always right down my appointments. And I survived menopause intact. 

So tishy, our voice from the age 60's. What observations can you give about planning for that decade? Or is the gift of that age to give up planning? 
jinelle 

Great to hear your full story, tishy. There is much that can be learned from  it. Makes me think that I should try to tell my tale too to see if I can find  out where I am going on this whole mortality issue.

My understanding right now is that the train has left the station, I will die and there is no way to not plan for this as the ultimate outcome, yet it seems so far away and abstract that those are easy words to say.

This may also be because both my parents are still alive and living independently in their early 80's, though in a bit of pain primarily due to joints and back, but no hint yet of what their terminal illness might be. And acquaintances are already starting to die right now.

This disease thing too is an issue I think about. Which one of the possible terminal illnesses will be mine. I joke that I will be killed by a terrorist bomb in North Africa when I am in my 80's on a scuba diving trip. Being ill or infirm has not been in my life history so I can not contemplate a  physical infirmity.

When I was younger and worrying about something, I would tell myself "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" in a usually futile attempt to lessen my anxiety. Now I don't need try anymore because this is part of my established worldview. What does it matter *what* the end may be? I'll just get on with living and deal with it when it comes. I'm talking of abandoning worry, not casting caution to the winds! 

After my divorce over 20 years ago, I have lived pretty much by my own schedule and choices so there is little that I have not been able to do that was part of my life wish list. It -has- been a selfish life. And this feels like a loss in some ways now as there are no things on the horizon or unmet expectations which can fuel my present interests. Nothing outside of my own life and my own choices is making any demands upon me.

But much of what I do feels a bit like make-work, a forced filling of time and I wonder how retirement in 10 years will feel.

I envy a bit those with families and relationships only for the drive they add to one's life.

Retirement is my next 10 year plan. I see myself doing house exchanges for several months in foreign countries and immersing myself in different cultures and languages. I see myself involved in life-long learning whether in our local adult education classes or Elderhostel. But I don't see myself developing any totally new interests that passionately absorb me, and that I miss. Yet the computer is something totally new and it has had a consuming passion in my life, so I guess I can not make any guesses about what else, unknown now, that will be on my horizon that may momentarily take over my life. 

A mission, a passion. They used to touch me unbidden, but now they seem to be only from a conscious choice and this is an entirely different orientation for me now. I can choose, but what do I choose. I can remeber hating and getting ripped apart by consuming passions that felt they came from outside of myself, but now there seems to be a heavy burden knowing that I an now captain of my own ship.

So I guess I am seeing my life in 10 year chunks right now, where death in its randomness could enter at any time. The next 10 years is preparing for retirement in making sure I have adequate financial resources and that my options remain open to even continue working or changing what I do for a living or not working at all.

I love the idea of not -having- to work, that a income check will come in regardless. But I do not mind actually working. I have jobs that can continue part time but they are tyrants right now working against any spontaneous planning and that is what I think I will like best after retirement. That I can have the income and the time flexibility to follow my whims. This sounds so great.

I stay away from doctors as I do not want them trying to scare me. I feel healthy, have good health habits and feel doctors will find something, anything wrong with people our age, yet not really know what is normal and okay versus their implicit need to find something wrong.

I am committing to my future by remodeling my kitchen which is the largest commitment I have made recently in my life. My house is almost paid for. I live modestly, but in a wonderful area and have a very convenient life so I miss little by my modest lifestyle. I gain a good deal of freedom by these life simplifying choices and as I said, right now that is my goal.

So I guess if all I can really do is contemplate the next 10, the 60's, I see it as my freedom decade to follow whims and not be tied to any daily responsibilities and obligations.

So tishy, our voice from the age 60's. What observations can you give about planning for that decade? Or is the gift of that age to give up planning?

Not that I don't dream of travel and love going places, but really what are the things we really remember the most about our trips? The unexpected little things that happened? The people we talked with? the flowers, the trees? (Well we all have our own little things we like, I like flowers, especially wild flowers ) 

But I like these things at home too. I just need to take the time to stop and appreciate the things around me a little bit more. 

Or is this just new age swarmy marmy stuff. Something to read about. Reading about making bread for example. I would love to make bread at least I think I would love to make bread. So why don't I do it? Anyone read the cookbook Laura's kitchen where she lovingly describes making her husbands bag lunch? It sounded so nice, but I HATE making lunches. So one lesson not learned. 

So I guess my goal for my 60's is to see what I do like to do and to make sure I put aside enough time to do it. Maybe just sitting and reading about how nice other people feel about doing things is enough. [ That is if I can get off the computer long enough to read ] It can be very satisfying to just think and feel and do nothing. 

Anyone read Sue Bender's book Plain and Simple, a woman's journey to the Amish? This is a satisfying book to read, not that in reality I would be satisfied living the life of an Amish woman, but who knows? At least it made me think. Here is a quote taken at random when I opened the book, I don't know the context. But the idea of <being> in the universe..... [quote] "In the Zen tradition a person goes through years of work to achieve self-forgetfulness. The Amish almost seem to have that quality in their genes. All equal, individually linked to God, each one knew that he or she was a necessary part in a larger universe." 

The author probably doesn't understand what she is talking about, or she would be sitting and weeding or something simple like that herself instead of writing a book. But that aside, <grin> I like the idea of trying to center my life on what is important. If I can go to Paris (or wherever that is not a place high on my list) and center my life so much the better. 

Kathryn 

At three in the morning, facing another day at work with too little sleep, I began asking myself, "What is left for me to do with my life?" 

My children are grown, and I see my grandson far too seldom. There is an old woman up the street whose health at 87 is declining, and I see her often, and then there is my mother, who will need more of my love and care. But that is only one area of purpose, I think now--caring for others. 

Soon after my daughter moved to her own apartment, I became a hospice volunteer, because I just didn't know what to do with myself with no one to "take care of." 

It was intense and very rewarding--I have written about it at http://www.public.usit.net/jackiej/Jane.html but I stopped hospice work when I became overwhelmed with my menopausal depression and physical difficulties. 

I have spent my whole life "trying to be good." Menopause (now about three years past) turned everything upside down for me: all the rules are changed, inside and out. 

And I am learning that life just goes on, we keep waking up, and this time my life has more choices than ever! Because there is no one at home but me. 

I hope to retire in five years, and that has focused me for sure; I want to be in shape financially and physically by then; I have begun looking for a small house to buy. 

But I instinctively know that first I must turn my need to care for others to caring for myself for awhile--I'm not doing so well these days. For the first time, I am stiff and unenergetic, and much of that comes from my weight gain during my HRT experiment of a couple of years ago. 

Now it is six in the morning, and I am sitting here, with my whole life in front of me, and I just want to go back to bed and weep. If I were to "go through the tunnel," I would be sent back to pull myself together, I think....Jackie, still learning 

I feel the same way about it being OK to die tomorrow - the unfinished business is the real crux of the matter I think. Some years ago, I *wasn't* satisified with my life, or rather my knowledge of what it was about. It sounds jargonish and it's a concept which is frequently mocked by older people, but I *was* trying to find myself albeit soberly and at home. Now I think I have done, everything's in order and yes I could die tomorrow without complaint, though that doesn't mean I want to or expect to! At the moment I think 75 will probably be old enough for me, though I could change my mind later.

Since I'm pretty low in the stamina department right now :) I will only address the "being OK to die tomorrow part.

This really hit home with me! You have said what I have been grasping at for a time. 

I recently decided that I would feel pretty awful if I died tomorrow, since I had not (up to that point) been living my life as I had always envisioned that I would. I think up until now I have been too busy caring for others to realize that I had not been caring for myself. 

I don't mean to sound selfish. My change in attitude also included caring for my spry but 81 year old mother. (By caring I guess I mean *doing* things with her. She still takes care of herself.) I looked at my life from the perspective of how I would feel if *she* died tomorrow and realized that I had been spending too much time on husband and family. It was time to do for myself and others (like Mom) as well. 

After spending a life being quiet and unassuming (and often being taken advantage of) my mom blossomed at 80 into an outspoken defender of her own rights. I'm taking a few lessons from *her* and I hope to be able to look out for myself starting now and not waiting until I'm 80. 

So I am trying to live up to *my own* expectations every day so that *if* I did die tomorrow I wouldn't be disappointed. 

Don't know if that makes sense. 
Mary


---

I am more afraid of life than of death. I am frightened by the stupidity, the narrow-mindedness, the aggression, the incredible brutality human beings are capable of. I am frightened by the tendency of the human species to destroy the very source of their existence by exploiting the natural resources of our planet. Sometimes reading my newspaper is a challenge because basically I do not understand my fellow human beings. Can death really frighten me? Nope, I don't think so. 
niyara