Soothing Death

Thanksgiving day some family members and I pulled up to the outside of a nursing home.  The parking lot was bare, so finding spaces was not an issue.  When we went inside to see my grandmother the place was bare, with the exception of the staff and the employees.  I don't know how many of us she actually recognized, but she knew that she wanted her husband, and that she wanted to go home, and otherwise had a general lacrimal look about her.  Not that I can blame her.  Nursing homes--at least the few I have been to--generally have the smell of urine rampant through them, and a highly uninterested staff.  I'd be miserable too, whether I could remember anything or not. Combined with an atrocious diet, inattentive staff, and family members that haphazardly show up, the nursing homes I can vouch for might as well be a tomb for the slightly living. 

In the animal kingdom an animal will wonder off to die so that the group might go on thriving.  The nursing home is our answer to that, though the elderly person doesn't always make the conscious decision, and sometimes they want to live with their family, though "life" gets in the way of the care of the elders.  Part of the reason is the fear of death we have in this culture.  If we can keep them just alive to not see death, we can keep our wits at bay.  Only to put them in whorish makeup and suits when they die, so that they can still look as if they are alive.  I like to think of everything in a cycle--part of why I enjoy strength training so much--in the course of life we are born, we live, and we die, and we pass on to somewhere else.  Usually the earth, or as ash.  Think about your view of death.  I will leave you with this passage from Watership Down, one of my favorite novels:

     "One chilly, blustery morning in March, I cannot tell exactly how many springs later, Hazel was dozing and waking in his burrow. He had spent a good deal of time there lately, for he felt the cold and could not seem to smell or run so well as in days gone by. He had been dreaming in a confused way--something about rain and elder bloom--when he woke to realized that there was a rabbit lying quietly beside him?no doubt some young buck who had come to ask his advice. The sentry in the run outside should not really have let him in without asking first. Never mind, thought Hazel. He raised his head and said, "Do you want to talk to me?" "Yes, that's what I've come for," replied the other. "You know me, don't you?" "Yes, of course," said Hazel, hoping he would be able to remember his name in a moment. Then he saw that in the darkness of the burrow the stranger's ears were shining with a faint silver light. "Yes, my lord," he said. "Yes, I know you." "You've been feeling tired," said the stranger, "but I can do something about that. I've come to ask whether you'd care to join my Owsla. We shall be glad to have you and you'd enjoy it. If you're ready, we might go along now." They went out past the young sentry, who paid the visitor no attention. The sun was shinning and in spite of the cold there were a few bucks and does at silflay, keeping out of the wind as they nibbled the shoots of spring grass. It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch, but stopped for a moment to watch his rabbits and to try to get used to the extraordinary feeling that strength and speed were flowing inexhaustibly out of him into their sleek young bodies and healthy senses."

Fiver the prophet, and Hazel-Rah