All posts tagged death
I'm not always wearing my full habit...
Breitbart publicly celebrated Ted Kennedy’s death.
I’m just going to go ahead and leave this here…
Early this morning, news broke that Sen. Ted Kennedy had passed away after serving in the U.S. Senate for nearly 50 years. Soon after, conservative commentator Andrew Breitbart began a sustained assault on Kennedy’s memory, tweeting “Rest in Chappaquiddick.”
Over the course of the next three hours, Breitbart unapologetically attacked Kennedy, calling him a “villain,” “a big ass motherf@#$er,” a “duplicitous bastard” and a “prick.” “I’ll shut my mouth for Carter. That’s just politics. Kennedy was a special pile of human excrement,” wrote Breitbart in one tweet.
Of course, as in all things, it’s only OK when conservatives do it.
Undercover Nun’s prayer for Mr. Breitbart is that when God welcomes him into heaven, Mr. Breitbart is very surprised to see who is there.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord; let light perpetual shine upon him.
(via ryking)
If I’m lucky, the family will accept the news that, in a time when we can separate conjoined twins and reattach severed limbs, people still wear out and die of old age. If I’m lucky, the family will recognize that their loved one’s life is nearing its end.
Craig Bowron, in Our unrealistic attitudes about death, through a doctor’s eyes
When my grandmother was dying of kidney failure last November, her three children struggled with the question of when to ask for pain medication. One refused to acknowledge the signs of pain, being more concerned with Nana’s blood pressure than with keeping her comfortable. This sibling held the medical power of attorney. One tried to stay out of the medical decisions; this sibling held the financial power of attorney. My mom didn’t know what to think or say or do, wrestling with her hope that her mother would wake and acknowledge that she was there against her wish that her mother would not have the painful and miserable death that her father had three years ago. They would stare at each other when the nurse at the hospital asked to confirm the dose of pain medication, like three deer simultaneously caught in the headlights, unable to speak. Even though I was two generations away, I would speak up: “We want her as comfortable as she can be.”
Hospitals — even the Mayo Clinic hospital in Florida (State motto: God’s Waiting Room) — are not well equipped to handle patients at the end of life. We were so thankful for the nurses and social workers from the hospice, who would check up on the doctor’s orders and make sure that as much as could be done for Nana was being done for her. They would spend time in the room just chatting with us, hearing and laughing with us at family stories, and these were the times when Nana was most peaceful.
The doctor also says this:
When families talk about letting their loved ones die “naturally,” they often mean “in their sleep” — not from a treatable illness such as a stroke, cancer or an infection. Choosing to let a loved one pass away by not treating an illness feels too complicit; conversely, choosing treatment that will push a patient into further suffering somehow feels like taking care of him. While it’s easy to empathize with these family members’ wishes, what they don’t appreciate is that very few elderly patients are lucky enough to die in their sleep. Almost everyone dies of something.
The one blessing of kidney failure was that Nana fell into a sleep, which became a deeper and deeper state of unconsciousness until she passed. It took several days, but we were all glad that her dying was peaceful.
The dying stand on holy ground, and sometimes we are privileged to witness this. It is hard, but it is a blessing.
When abortion is illegal, women (and their unborn children) die. When abortion is legal and available, there is significantly less death.
How, then, is prohibitive legislation a “pro-life” position?
(Also, can you point to anywhere in the Constitution that says abortion should be legislated at a federal level? Since you can’t, why is this a key campaign issue for candidates for President, the House, or the Senate?)
When a person loves another dearly, he desires strongly to be close to the other: therefore, why be afraid to die? Death brings us to God!
St. Josephine Bakhita (via radioteopoli)
Undercover Nun is not afraid of death. I am, however, uncomfortable with dying. The process of dying is not always (or often) pleasant or dignified, and I expect it won’t feel very good. I don’t look forward to it. But after that? No problem: I want to be with God!
(Source: joecatholic, via radioteopoli)
Of life, death, family, love, and the meaning of it all
This is an absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful story. If it doesn’t make you cry, it will at least make the tears well up in your eyes. I would include some of it here in a blockquote, but I couldn’t bear to lift any piece of it on its own.
As I read, I was reminded of my time in late November, at my grandmother’s bedside in the hospital and in the hospice. Nana was unable to really respond to us, but she heard us and I believe she could understand some of what we were talking about. When the conversation became agitated, because my sister got screwed over by the airline, Nana became restless and made sounds of pain. But when we sat around sharing memories and family stories, laughing about Nana’s foibles and our own, she was peaceful. Her brow would un-furrow, and she would lie still and quiet.
Not only do people talk about family when they are dying, but that’s what the people around them talk about. Our lives are made up of stories, and our relationships are made up of shared stories. When you peel away all the trappings of our lives, that’s what we have left: our selves, our families, our stories. This is how we know just the slightest bit about God’s love, God’s forgiveness, God’s grace.
Go read the story. You’ll be glad you did.
One of the fables we live by is that some day the killing will stop. If only we rid ourselves of Chinese, white men will have jobs and white women will have virtue, and then we can stop killing. If only we rid ourselves of Indians, we will fulfill our Manifest Destiny, and then we can stop killing. If only we rid ourselves of Canaanites, we will live in the Promised Land, and then we can stop killing. If only we rid ourselves of Jews, we can build and maintain a Thousand Year Reich, and then we can stop killing. If only we stop the Soviet Union, we can stop the killing (remember the Peace Dividend that never materialized?). If only we can take out the worldwide terrorist network of Bin Laden and others like him. If only. But the killing never stops. Always a new enemy to be hated is found.
Derrick Jensen, The Culture of Make Believe (via thenewwomensmovement)
May God have mercy on our souls.
(Source: uncle-iroh, via hairtrending)
Police Tasered 61-year-old Disabled Man to Death
we tolerate this.
But we shouldn’t. I feel physically sick after reading this.
Undercover Nun and the Mister Sister drove through this town last week, on our way home from my grandmother’s memorial service. We thought it was a pretty little town, in the dark, and kind of wanted to see it again. Now I kind of don’t.
Death is the labor that delivers us into the presence of the Lord.
the Reverend Doctor J. Derek Harbin, in his sermon for All Saints’ Sunday, November 6, 2011
Undercover Nun has been known to draw the parallel between being born into this world, and being born into the next world through death. It’s not a tough metaphor to understand, especially when we hear the stories of moving toward the light. But for some reason, in Sunday’s sermon, this metaphor just really sang out for me, and this one sentence in particular was so striking to me that I had to grab a pen and write it down on my service bulletin.
I guess the one part that intrigues me about this metaphor is who feels the labor pains. When we are delivered into this world, we may be uncomfortable and may even experience some pain, but the real labor pains belong to our mothers. But when we are delivered into God’s world, it is Jesus who experiences the labor pains for us, as he is arrested and flogged and crucified.
The tradition of seeing God as mother is almost as ancient as the tradition of seeing God as father. Recognizing the crucifixion of Christ as God’s labor pains to deliver us into the kingdom is another way in which we can understand God not only as father but as mother, as the one who gives us life. What a great gift!
Climate scientist Heidi Cullen on extreme heat: “That’s always been sort of the sinister aspect of heat, which is from a television standpoint, what kind of imagery do you show to really make people understand that this is an incredibly deadly situation. It’s a really tough kind of thing to convey with visual images. So you just, you see images like water fountains spraying water and people at the beach, but those are not necessarily the things that our brain thinks of as dangerous. But it really, really is.”
Heat kills more people every summer than cold kills in the winter. And yet, utility companies can shut off your electricity (and thus, air conditioning) in the summer, but they can’t turn off your gas/oil/electricity for heating in the winter.
Heat kills. Be smart!
(via silas216)
You will have a comfortable old age
A fortune cookie I got Sunday night. And a lie. There is absolutely no sense of the word comfortable that will apply to my old age. Between having to work until I die and having an inherited disease that, while not itself progressive, causes progressive conditions, well, signs point to a penny-pinching, pain-filled old age.
But you know what? There’s no point in storing up treasures in this world, and I know that. While I believe that Jesus pretty frequently indulged in hyperbole (I have to hate this life in order to have eternal life? Really?), I also know that he makes some important points. I don’t fear death. I don’t look forward to the process of dying, but I’m not afraid of death. It’ll probably be a lot more comfortable than my old age.
