Death Pays a Visit

Death Pays a Visit

When I was much younger, someone gave me a copy of the Gail Sheehy book Passages. It outlined some typical moments in our lives when certain things naturally occur. I specifically recall reading that while in our 30s we almost all come face to face with our own mortality, usually by way of the death of a loved one. We are then forced to grapple with the inevitability of our own death at some point. When I was even younger, I watched my older son go through a similar process almost in real time at a very young age. We were on the Southern State Parkway on Long Island and we passed a deer that had been killed and that lay by the side of the road. He noticed it and asked what it was. I explained that it was a dead deer, which elicited a simple question about what dead meant. I tried to explain and could see the gears turning in his head. He asked if his Grandma would die some day and I said she would, but not for a long time. That led to him asking if I would die some day and I gave him the same answer with an even longer likely timeframe. That led to the ultimate realization when he asked with a slightly quivering voice if he would some day die. Boom. There you have it. We all think about our own death one day or another, whether when Passages says or some other time.

Last night, for no particular reason, I had a visit from death during the middle of the night. I woke up at about 3am, which is, more often than not, my habit. After spending a half hour in the bathroom stretching my achy muscles and taking some Tylenol, I headed back to bed. I fall asleep very quickly when I go to bed at night. I know this for a fact from my long-ago overnight at a sleep clinic. I usually fall asleep within a few minutes of my head hitting the pillow. People with sleep problems either have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep. I fall into the later category. But that all changes after I have slept four or five hours as I had last night. Going back to bed is much more difficult for me, which is part of the reason that I stay up for a bit when I do wake up. Last night, that is exactly what happened. As I got into bed, the first issue to contend with is temperature. Was I cold or hot? I chose to get under the covers even though the weather seems to be in a warming trend right now. I then adjusted my CPAP mask, which is one of the newer low-profile nasal masks, just one step bigger than those oxygen hoses you see people using in the hospital going into their noses. The mask is actually quite comfortable, but when you are fidgety in bed, nothing seems comfortable. The key issue isn’t about comfort on the face (I’ve worn a CPAP for 29 years now), but keeping the seal tight enough to keep air from making a whooshing noise up against the face. Once again, the slightest sound when you are fidgety is enough to put you off.

While I am flopping around like this in the middle of the night, wanting very much to go back to sleep, I notice everything. Last night I felt like my nose was a bit stuffy, making it difficult to get a full breath just through the nasal mask. CPAP works best if you try to breathe entirely through your nose. When you breathe through your mouth you get trench mouth by morning, which is very unpleasant. So I lay there forcing myself to breathe through my nose and nasal mask, not quite feeling like I was getting enough air into my lungs on each breath. Breathing is one of those things we all do awake or asleep, 24×7, so I’m not sure why there are moments when it moves from deep cerebral cortex or brain stem level to forefront in my mind, but it does. Last night I was lying there, thinking about breathing and that does not lead easily to sleepiness. What it does do is make you think about things you have no need to be considering for the most part, like dying.

I definitely followed the Passages path and came to some sort of grips with my own mortality some time in my 30s. In fact, I adopted a general philosophy that I was a big dog and that big dogs don’t live as long as little dogs. I also set a mark at 70 years, which when you are in your 30s seems like a long way off. I based my 70 goal on the Biblical three-score-ten designation and decided to treat it as my break even point. In four days, I cross over into my 70th year, so it is fair to think that approaching this long-time goal moment should give me reason to think about death a bit more than normal. But that wasn’t what was on my mind last night. Breathing was on my mind. I do not have any respiratory problems that I know of, but in the middle of the night, rationality is not often in long supply.

So, I asked myself what I always do, what would happen if I did, indeed, die in my sleep (not that I really expected to, but more to get my mind off every breath). I came to an aha moment of sorts. I suddenly had some clarity about why people might be afraid of death. In the middle of the night it struck me that it has to do with not having done the things that they have stored in their dreams or said the things that are knocking around in their heads. That made a lot of sense to me in the moment because I take great pride in having lived a go-for-it lifestyle on the one hand and with my constant writing, I think it is fair to say that I try to empty my brain every day to some degree. I would never go so far as to say that I empty my mind, but I certainly do get a lot out of it and onto paper (hardcopy or digital). At least that line of reasoning gave me enough peace at that hour of the night to fall asleep in the self-assurance that if I die it will not be with a lot of agenda items unchecked.

I do not consider myself a morbid or morose person. I do not dwell on death and I do not allow myself to wallow in the morass of regrets. There is simply too much good in the world and too much fun to be had. I am blessed or cursed with an abundance of both optimism for the future and thoughts about all aspects of life. I am certain that I will not run out of either. Some people encounter obstacles and pain in life that drain them of these qualities, and perhaps it has just been my good fortune that that has not happened to me. I would like to think it has something to do with my expression of free will and the choices I have made, but I am humble enough to understand that some who have chosen equally well have had less pleasant outcomes. While that forces me to acknowledge the place of luck in one’s life and circumstances, I also feel that how you handle bad luck when it comes your way has a lot to do with your ultimate outlook.

I have a friend for whom I recently helped write a business memoir. His career had lots of highs, but easily an equal number of setbacks or lows, and yet he is one of the happiest and most optimistic people I know. Other people want to be around that sort of energy and I am certain that has contributed to his overall state of happiness. I’ll bet that when he dies, he will die a happy and satisfied man. That is all any of us can ask for of life. So, when death pays a visit, smile right back at it and tell him that you are fulfilled and ready whenever your allotted time comes due. You can rage against the dying of the light, but I choose to smile into the sunset and catch that last breath with pleasure.