continue to talk I feel like I can ask Dave anything and he won’t be offended as he is sure to have already considered it. Besides which it’s not my intention to be offensive, I just want to know more.
And so what about children and their exposure or, maybe more importantly, their lack of exposure to funerals and the scar that it can have on them for life, as I sense it has with me?
This is a subject that really sets Dave alight:
‘What adults don’t understand is that children are brilliant at learning and dealing with change – far more than we are. And far, far more than we give them credit for. I always say to people, if they think their kiddies can cope with a funeral and all that goes with it, they should definitely go and see what all the fuss is about.
‘Children see things very black and white compared to older people. It’s their job to learn and they are experts at it. Adults shouldn’t let their own narrow-mindedness infect what in my experience usually turns out to be a hugely positive thing for a child to witness.’
Whoa!
This sentiment doesn’t so much resonate with me as chime deafeningly inside my head. My dad was ill for a very long time and basically died at home. The kind of long, slow, miserable, painful and degrading death you might not wish on your worst enemy. My mum thought I’d suffered enough, so suggested I stayed at home when it was time.
Yet here I was remonstrating at how rubbish we are dealing with death and I still hadn’t done anything about talking to my mum about how she might like her funeral to be. I asked Dave for his advice where my own situation was concerned.
‘Chris, from what you’ve told me your mum has had more than her fair share of health issues over the last ten years and in many ways you may have left it a bit late. Indeed, it’s always going to beawkward to approach someone else about their funeral. What we need to be doing is leading by example for the benefit of future generations. We need to talk about our own funerals first and then perhaps other people might feel more comfortable about bringing up the prospect of their own.’
Again what Dave says makes complete and utter sense. I have missed the suitable window of opportunity for a creative and lighthearted funereal discussion with my mum by about, oh let’s see – a good fifteen to twenty-five years .
If I were to suddenly bring up the subject with her now, who could blame her for thinking it sounded like I had concluded her existence was dragging on a bit and it was time to call last orders.
‘Sometimes you just have to accept that the moment has passed, even if the person in question has not,’ says Dave.
Hilarious. He is so brilliantly pragmatic about everything.
‘Like most problems, it’s never about what you initially think. If we track the source of the issue right back to where it all starts to unravel, it’s down to all of us to take the bull by the horns and bring up the subject of our own demise and departing so no one else has to.’
Our kids and grandkids need to be taught to do this by the generations who are going to die before they are; teaching from behind it’s sometimes referred to as, or leading by example if you’d rather. So that means, ladies and gentlemen, that the next quantum shift in how to make dying easier is wholeheartedly and unreservedly down to us.
No longer can we justify crouching in the corner in the pathetic hope that death’s creeping shadow won’t notice we are there and will pass us by. Death is going to come, regardless of how much we quake and quiver and pray for it not to. No matter how many drugs they invent, no matter how many other planets become inhabitable, no matter how much we meditate for it not to.
No longer can we shirk the responsibility of the inevitable by claiming the ignorance of our forefathers. We are the most blessed species ever to have the gift of life bestowed upon us. It’s time weaccepted that life’s
And so what about children and their exposure or, maybe more importantly, their lack of exposure to funerals and the scar that it can have on them for life, as I sense it has with me?
This is a subject that really sets Dave alight:
‘What adults don’t understand is that children are brilliant at learning and dealing with change – far more than we are. And far, far more than we give them credit for. I always say to people, if they think their kiddies can cope with a funeral and all that goes with it, they should definitely go and see what all the fuss is about.
‘Children see things very black and white compared to older people. It’s their job to learn and they are experts at it. Adults shouldn’t let their own narrow-mindedness infect what in my experience usually turns out to be a hugely positive thing for a child to witness.’
Whoa!
This sentiment doesn’t so much resonate with me as chime deafeningly inside my head. My dad was ill for a very long time and basically died at home. The kind of long, slow, miserable, painful and degrading death you might not wish on your worst enemy. My mum thought I’d suffered enough, so suggested I stayed at home when it was time.
Yet here I was remonstrating at how rubbish we are dealing with death and I still hadn’t done anything about talking to my mum about how she might like her funeral to be. I asked Dave for his advice where my own situation was concerned.
‘Chris, from what you’ve told me your mum has had more than her fair share of health issues over the last ten years and in many ways you may have left it a bit late. Indeed, it’s always going to beawkward to approach someone else about their funeral. What we need to be doing is leading by example for the benefit of future generations. We need to talk about our own funerals first and then perhaps other people might feel more comfortable about bringing up the prospect of their own.’
Again what Dave says makes complete and utter sense. I have missed the suitable window of opportunity for a creative and lighthearted funereal discussion with my mum by about, oh let’s see – a good fifteen to twenty-five years .
If I were to suddenly bring up the subject with her now, who could blame her for thinking it sounded like I had concluded her existence was dragging on a bit and it was time to call last orders.
‘Sometimes you just have to accept that the moment has passed, even if the person in question has not,’ says Dave.
Hilarious. He is so brilliantly pragmatic about everything.
‘Like most problems, it’s never about what you initially think. If we track the source of the issue right back to where it all starts to unravel, it’s down to all of us to take the bull by the horns and bring up the subject of our own demise and departing so no one else has to.’
Our kids and grandkids need to be taught to do this by the generations who are going to die before they are; teaching from behind it’s sometimes referred to as, or leading by example if you’d rather. So that means, ladies and gentlemen, that the next quantum shift in how to make dying easier is wholeheartedly and unreservedly down to us.
No longer can we justify crouching in the corner in the pathetic hope that death’s creeping shadow won’t notice we are there and will pass us by. Death is going to come, regardless of how much we quake and quiver and pray for it not to. No matter how many drugs they invent, no matter how many other planets become inhabitable, no matter how much we meditate for it not to.
No longer can we shirk the responsibility of the inevitable by claiming the ignorance of our forefathers. We are the most blessed species ever to have the gift of life bestowed upon us. It’s time weaccepted that life’s
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