nightmares at the morgue

the start of my third semester of school coincided with the "hands on" embalming classes at the Bellevue city morgue.

an overwhelming sadness takes over me every monday when I have to go to morgue, apart from the fact of never knowing what to expect the contents of the body bag to be, it just breaks my heart to see how many people die in complete solitude, forgotten by their loved ones, if they even had any.

mostly homeless people and old folks from nursing homes end up on our embalming tables...

who knows what amazing things they must have done in their lifetime, I like to fantasize and imagine what remarkable deeds they accomplished, maybe they were so phenomenal that they gave up all earthly possessions and served others, or maybe travelled to far away lands, fought for something they believed in, lost everything and chose to live in complete secrecy in New York so to protect the people they love... creating individual stories for each deceased person helps me cope with the fact that at the end of the day they died alone, no one came to claim them, their committal service is said by one of us after we all practiced our incisions, sutures, injecting and aspirating on them. God bless them.

needless to say, seeing all this death takes some getting used to... I haven't slept all that well lately

grieving when there hasn't been a death

so many factors can prepare you to the ultimate loss of the privation of life caused by death.

recently a dear friend of mine moved away, the feelings of loss are very similar to those one would feel if in mourning, for the exception I can call her any time I want to hear her voice and similar things... but I have had to adjust to her not being around, it's madding how much I miss her, it's like a little part of me died, and the new part isn't quite ready, nor is it even there for that matter

and thoughts like "what happens when I can't call the person I love and care about? what happens when there is nothing left but a fading memory?" arise and keep me awake at night

I'm not at all concerned with my own death, but that of others I care about, what then?

I guess I should not be distressed by these reflections until the time comes, but none the less... I can't get rid of this sad core that's overshadowing my mind lately

a man is not completely born until he is dead

today I had a lot on my mind, and these are a few of my thoughts:

1. thinking about death prompts questions and brings about the thought and effort necessary to acquire an understanding of it. We do not fear what we understand.

2. thinking about it and about it's inevitability and unpredictability makes us more aware of life, more tuned in and more appreciative of each moment and aspect of life.

3. Thinking about it and about the eternity that follows makes the worries and trials of this short earth-life seem smaller and easier to bear; thus it becomes easier to live with the problems and difficulties of daily life.

and this Shakespeare quotation comes in handy:

Be absolute for death; either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter.

act III, scene I, Measure for Measure

Death according to Monty Python

Yoda on Death

“Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealously. The shadow of greed, that is.”

“Soon will I rest, yes, forever sleep. Earned it I have. Twilight is upon me, soon night must fall.”

Death

Death is a process and not a moment in time. During the process there is a series of physical and chemical changes, starting before the medicolegal time of death and continuing afterward. In the sequence of death there is a point of irreversibility that can generally be diagnosed by physicians. When this point is reached nothing more can be done to restore intelligent life.

William and Emily

THERE is something about Death
Like love itself!
If with some one with whom you have known passion,
And the glow of youthful love,
You also, after years of life
Together, feel the sinking of the fire,
And thus fade away together,
Gradually, faintly, delicately,
As it were in each other’s arms,
Passing from the familiar room—
That is a power of unison between souls
Like love itself!

Edgar Lee Masters (1868–1950). Spoon River Anthology. 1916.