I describe Lisa as an acquaintance (yet ironically Facebook “friends”) even though we attended John Burroughs High School together and, as she puts it, have been “orbiting” in the same atmospheric social circles for well over 30 years, yet never really connecting at any qualitative level. This all changed when I received an email from her requesting my assistance in her TEDx presentation, as she was aware I was a Speech Professor and was recommended by a mutual friend. Her topic? Death. Lisa is one of those people who possess an aura of positivity and friendliness accompanied by a strong and undeniable, though carefully veiled, strength. One cannot allow her overwhelmingly warm, bubbly and charismatic demeanor to conceal that she has the heart of prizefighter who will ultimately not take no for an answer. She is the warm and fuzzy teddy bear with the tenacious heart of a lion. It is little wonder as to why. Lisa lost her son Justin, who was a young teen at the time, to cancer about 12 years ago. If this were not enough, some years later her youngest son, Jacob, was diagnosed with the same cancer at the same age his older brother was diagnosed. Today, her youngest son is cancer free yet still needs to be checked every 6 months. Perhaps these horrific events explain her tenacious heart, but how the teddy bear demeanor? She is remarkable. As a result, Lisa is now an advocate for people learning how to deal with death. She has started “Death Cafés” in which all people are invited to come and discuss all things death; be it coping with the death of a loved one, dealing with your own mortality, or just curious and in need of discussion. In addition, she has started a non-profit, “Justin Time” in which children can attend and express their thoughts and emotions concerning the death of a loved one through artistic expression. Simply, if it’s about death, it’s all good with Lisa. If she were a radio station her motto would read, “All Death, All The Time.” The basic philosophical underpinning behind Lisa’s relationship with death is that people do not like to discuss it and do not know or even realize the basics of the grieving process for themselves or others. To exemplify her message as simply as I can, if you attempt to console one who is grieving with saying, “He is in a better place,” they will want to slug you; rather asking, “What happened? Tell me more,” is music to a grieving person’s ear. The process of death is not about wonderfully motivated, yet painfully insulting, platitudes; rather it is about expression and discussion. I, perhaps like most Americans, am guilty of being a “death denying” person who is not interested in the discussion. I hate death so much because I love life so much. As I think about it, I suppose it is not the fear of death that haunts me as much as the fear of no life does; this in spite of the fact I have spoken with enough people who have had near death experiences and speak of a complete warmness and joy in the process. Yes I fear, yet concurrently believe it is a beautiful transition into what awaits us, whatever that might be. And speaking of synchronicity (paragraph 4, look), as I was assisting Lisa I had a unexpected conversation with an old friend who, unbeknownst to me, nearly died from Lyme Disease several years ago, recovered, and now loves life more than ever—yet has absolutely no fear of death in the least; in fact, she is very excited for it. I’m also aware, through first hand personal experience, that some people on death’s doorstep converse, out loud in a semi-conscious state, with long dead friends and family. And speaking of synchronicity yet again, the day of Lisa’s talk, my partner Rene’ told me her 94 year old grandmother, who is very close to passing in a retirement home, is now having conversations and making plans with her deceased family. Am I pimpin an afterlife philosophy? Hell no. I have no idea. Am I pimpin an afterlife period? Hell Hell no. Jimmy’s preaching days are long over. I just believe there is something— and if it’s nothing? Not a damn thing I can do about it. Still, it’s my blog so hear me out. In all, human beings hate change. We resist change. Most of us would rather live a half-assed lifestyle and avoid change over living a full and complete life that requires risk and change. Perhaps this is the same with death. Death demands change. Far from a Hindu expert on anything, I am reminded of the Hindu God Shiva who is understood to be the “destroyer,” or God of death, as it were. However, though Shiva is associated with destruction, this is not considered a negative in the Hindu religion as Shiva is also considered to be the “transformer” –as destruction opens the path for a new creation of the universe, a new opportunity for the beauty and drama of universal illusion to unfold.
So, no longer just an acquaintance and now a new friend, Lisa, has guided me into an honest and thoughtful reflection concerning death. Is it a beautiful transition? Yes. And what do I still think about death?
Yuck.
You might say Jimmy’s in death tension. I love change…and death may be the ultimate form of it.
