On Sudden Death vs Fatal Illness

A friend at the sdj just received the news this afternoon that his mother died suddenly. The news was unexpected and the affect positively heartbreaking in such a way that I have no words for it, just a heart that aches for him and what he's going through. There was a domino effect, of course, and everyone within a 10 cube range got on the phone and called their mother, suddenly hyper-aware of the fragility of life.

Everyone except for me.

I mean yes, I did immediately get on the phone and call Maman, of course, but my experience is different because frankly I'm already more than aware of Maman's mortality. In fact her death is not a distant nightmare possibility, the spectre of which can be erased with a simple phone call. Her death is a reality, and a more imminent one than it is for most of my coworkers.

It got me thinking about how surreal it is to live with the knowledge of approaching death. Maman has been talking about it more and more, admitting (at least to me, probably not to my father) that she is dying, and we don't know how much time she has left. It could be 10 months, it could be 10 years (though that is highly unlikely, as her tumors are growing again, she's back on the hard core chemo regime, and her body's tolerance is pretty damn low at this point). But she summed it up well when she said that you can't get consumed by the knowledge that death is a soon-to-be reality, or else you're already dead, completely paralyzed by the idea. I think its definitely similar for those on the survivor end of the spectrum. Even knowing that Maman is going to die... its not a reality I can fully give over to, nor is it a reality I can ignore. I'm not deluding myself into thinking she will get better, because she won't, but I'm also not letting fear take over my life (which I think is what is happening to my father).

When my brother commit suicide, it was both a sudden extreme shock and no surprise whatsoever. He had been mentally ill for a long time (longer than anyone but me knew), and had already tried to commit suicide once before so it was always this looming threat hovering menacingly over every aspect of daily life. I even ran away to Europe for 3 months to escape the fear and the pressure of caring for him. Yet when it finally happened, it felt like such a shocking punch to the gut, knocking the wind right out of me. I think we can't ever fully wrap our heads around death, and even when we know its going to happen, the shock of it can never fully be erased. We can't fathom the finality of it until we are experiencing it.

So in my opinion, knowing that Maman is going to die does not in any way make it an easier pill to swallow than a sudden death, it just means I'm more aware of mortality in general.

And maybe just a teensy bit jealous of those who are blissfully unaware.