Why Do People Avoid the Topic of Death?
Death—a topic most people want to avoid, but lately it’s in the news everyday with the coronavirus updates. Because of so much focus on death lately, I wrote “Are ‘The Dead’ Dead?” this last week and “I Want You Back! Or Do I?” six years ago—two poems very different in topic and tone!
Personally, I’ve not shied away from this topic. Possibly because I was raised in a multi-generational community and saw significant elderly people die like my grandparents and life-long babysitters. I don’t remembering viewing the bodies, just the loss.
In my early twenties, we buried my first husband’s grandfather, a dear man I loved. I remember seeing his lifeless body and a new reality hit me—that was not the man I loved. It was simply the physical shell that housed his fun-loving spirit.
Later, I had the privilege of witnessing the death of my best square dance girlfriend, Kathi Raver. The hospice nurse took the small group of friends and family gathered through the death process which fascinated me.
In 2017, I published a grief and growth memoir talking about my parents’ deaths, and readers recoiled at the title! I knew it wouldn’t be popular, but the response shocked me. Nevertheless, I had to share my process about my losses.
A natural segue for me now, surrounded by the devastating effect of the coronavirus and the mounting death count, I wrote the following poem:
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Are “The Dead” Dead?
July 8, 2020
In this coronavirus world,
We speak
So often
Of the dead,
The dying
Death itself
My thoughts linger over
My dead
My family
My friends
A thought whispered softly,
“Speak their names!”
Say it
Repeat it
Caress it
As I pondered
This charge,
I realized
I do this!
I mention my dead
Their names
Every day
In my prayers
Blessings for where
They are
Support for me
Like my personal
A legion of
Guardian angels
Remembrance of
Our connections
But the thought persisted,
“Say their names!”
Why?
When I say a name
Of the deceased,
They come to life!
Memories flood me!
I chuckle as
Dad and I glide
Across the wooden dance floor
Doing his step
No one else can imitate!
I smell
Mom’s sweet aroma
And
Giggle with her once more
Sitting on the couch
Shoulders touching
Souls and spirits connected.
I laugh out loud
At Aunt Willie’s
Outrageous sense-of-humor
The twinkle in her eyes
Mischievous and youthful
I lean back and marvel
At Flippo’s memory and
Storytelling skills!
He got me again
And again
And again!
I hug Scott close to my heart
My lifelong friend
As we reminisced once more
Of
childhood days
high school days
Carefree
And
Powerful
Say their names
And they’re no longer died!
They’re alive
Vibrant
Active
In delicious memories
In my heart and soul!
Speak their names!
Don’t Stop
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In 2017, I published the following poem in A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter’s Grief Memoir. After Mom’s death, I struggled with my loss, yet wondered about wanting her back here. She had polycythyemia vera which morphed into myelofibrosis, a form of leukemia, demanding repeated blood transfusion and a feeding tube.
I Want You Back! Or Do I?
January 27, 2014
I stand at that mysterious wall
between life and eternity
and scream,
"I want you back!"
I pound my fists.
I scream!
I cry,
but nothing changes.
You slipped
through my fingertips.
I grasped.
You were here one second
and
gone the next!
Nothing I could do
would hold you.
Where are you now?
Sitting next to Jesus and Dad—
smiling
youthful
relaxed
happy!
I hope so!
I am earth bound—
held in place
by time and
my human existence!
I now know more,
realize there's more.
There has to be!
A small peephole
opened into eternity
at your death bed.
Surprisingly, a small kernel of hope was born that day for me.
Life ended here for you
so quickly!
Your shell of a body
lay limp and lifeless
in that hospital bed.
I saw your last breath,
but I also saw something else
slight
faint
Relief for you!
A passing
A knowing
that you are gone
from here,
but will wait for me
there.
In my solemn, desolate space,
I will still cry,
"I want you back!"
But today I know
that
I don't want you back—
I want to join you
there!
©2017 Larada Horner-Miller
Death is a part of this life, but I wonder—does saying the name of a dead loved one bring them back to life, for just a moment? Are the dead really dead? Are they waiting with open arms to welcome us home?
What do you think?
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