We never say much as we frantically try to save the life we know we can’t save or perhaps silently hope we don’t save. When it’s finally over and the last heart beat blips across the screen and we survey the clutter of bloody gloves, wrappers, masks and needles that now litter the room, you may catch a glimpse as we bow our heads in shame, fearful perhaps that someday we may have to stand in front of God as he looks down upon us and says, “What in the hell were you thinking?”
When it comes time for us to be called home, those of us in the know will pray that when we gaze down upon our last breath we will be grateful that our own doctors and families chose to do what they should instead of what they could, and with that we will close our eyes to familiar sounds in a familiar room, a fleeting smile and a final soft squeeze of a familiar hand. (I Know You Love Me — Now Let Me Die)
I am not afraid to die, nor am i afraid of the after-life. Death is a natural part of living and I and G-d are on first name basis, so what happens to me after I have died is irrelevant. I am afraid of the process of dying. The pain, the possible withering away, hooked up to all sorts of beeping instruments. That scares me. Because that is not natural, that is not part of Living. That is just inhumane and cruel, and I do not want that to be the last thing I do in my life.
Removing this horrid process from Life has to be regarded as more important than the length of any life. It has to be made a part of us mending the world, mending the tears in the fabric of our Universe. No one should have to go through the cold, callous and cruel process the idea of Quantity over Quality forces on us. Dying in our sleep should not be something we pray and hope for, because what we should hope for is a Good Death – a death among our loved ones with every needed word said and final farewells given.