In Sarah Ruhl’s For Peter Pan on Her 70th Birthday, death is an idea we have to sneak up on. The play imagines that five children are gathering to help their father die well and to navigate the aftermath. […] As their father moans and moves, but does not speak, the siblings disagree, with patience and love, about how to care for him as his death approaches. Ann, the protagonist, opposes her brothers’ plan to keep upping his morphine—regardless of whether it is necessary to treat his pain—to help him avoid a protracted, difficult death. Groping for a way to explain her reluctance, she tells them that when she euthanized her dog she couldn’t shake the feeling she had killed her pet, and she doesn’t want to feel that way about her father. As I watched the play, I was struck by the fact that she had to turn to the example of an animal’s bad death to try to illustrate what a good one might be for a person.
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Caring for the dying and the dead is an act of hospitality, the last one we get to offer someone. It is always difficult work, but we have made it harder (and rarer) than it should be by sheltering ourselves so carefully from any glimpse of death.
And, for further reading, consider visiting or otherwise supporting the Dominican Sisters at Hawthorne, who care for the dying. And check out this NYT Magazine piece on prisoners working in hospice for their fellow inmates.
(Image at top, Burial of the dead on the Antietam battlefield, Wikimedia Commons).
I saw you title and wanted to add a couple of anecdotes on your topic…but then I read your article and now my points don’t seem very important. Perhaps another time.
I am very sorry for you, and your man, and I promise to pray for you.
KC
Prayers for you. In case it’s helpful, my parents sometimes host people who are here to consult with Dr. Hilgers; then at least you don’t have to worry about hotel costs and such.
Thank you for your thoughtful article. I cared for my husband as he was dying. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. It was also a privilege. I love how you describe it as our last act of hospitality. It was a very special time for both of us.
I’m so glad you were able to do that for him. May his memory be for a blessing.
I just wonder how you reconcile the idea of caring for the dead as a (sacred) act of hospitality with Jesus’s instruction in Matthew 8:22 to “let the dead bury their own dead.” I know there are Catholic commentators who try to explain this passage as a one time “exception to the rule” (i.e., in that particular situation, the invitation to go with Jesus trumped the otherwise legitimate duty for the son to attend to his deceased parent) but I feel this statement by Jesus communicates an indictment of humanity’s preoccupation with death and with the cultural rituals surrounding death.
You’ve pretty much anticipated my answer. There are a number of things done for Jesus that are particularly urgent and right when the Bridegroom is present (the alabaster jar of oil, the disciples not fasting while with Christ) and I think this is one of them.