“When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.” - Tecumseh
My friend Lisa passed away this morning in the way, place and time she chose. She is the first person I have known and loved to make use of a legal, medically assisted death procedure. Several days ago, Lisa and her family sent a note to a select group of people to let us know she had chosen today as her last. She has been very ill and we were all aware her time was growing critically short. She wanted to leave this world with dignity and comfort and she wanted to be in control. While I knew this day was coming, seeing the announcement in that way sent me spiraling down into a place of confusion and pain. Suicide, even in this form is hard for me to process. Apparently, all these years later, the little Catholic girl still dwells somewhere deep within me. But I love Lisa and I respect her right to make her own decisions. What is right for her may not be right for me. Who am I to judge? My immediate challenge became figuring out how to be fully supportive of her and her loved ones and get myself through the next days. I wrote a letter to Lisa to tell her how much she means to me and to say goodbye. I made frequent contact with the others who make up a small piece of the collection of people she gathered around her and surrounded with her wisdom and love. And I laid out a strategy for today that included time on the deck overlooking the ravine behind my home, some quiet, creative projects to distract me, prayer, meditation and reflection to send her spirit on its way and a small split of prosecco to enjoy in gratitude for her friendship and love. Most of that didn't happen.
I did go outside to sit on the deck for an hour surrounding the time of her death. The heat in the city is oppressive today, the air thick with humidity and smog. At times there was a breeze but instead of carrying the gentle sounds of nature, it carried the sounds of the highway a kilometer from my home. The birds stopped singing amid the cacophony of lawnmowers that seemed to be running all throughout the neighbourhood. Still, I sat and read a book about love and said my prayers of gratitude. When I could no longer endure the weight of the air I sat long in a tepid bath, trying to unknot the kinks in my too tight muscles. I received a message from a dear young friend who was convocating from her masters program today. She asked me to join her and her husband, mother and three small children for lunch. As hard as I knew it would be to pull myself together, I knew that I must. Lisa would have told me to go and celebrate. I accepted the gracious invitation, dressed and headed to the restaurant. It was a good tonic. After lunch I drove my friend to a mani-pedi appointment she had at nearby salon. I took a chance and went in with her and left a couple of hours later with a fresh pedicure, a bit of overdue self-care. Lisa would have approved.
Tomorrow I will attend Lisa's funeral and the shiva in her family home. I will cling tightly to the other women whose circle I have joined through my connection with Lisa. They are the gift that she has left me, wonderful, beautiful people to know and to love, a place to belong. A couple of days ago, I received a response to the letter I sent to Lisa to say goodbye, She left me with these words, "I send you love
and .. more love and hopes that you will be safe,
strong and free and always feel like you belong." She was extraordinary, in life and in death. Godspeed, my dear friend.
