John Cleese on Death

New York Magazine's Vulture: Is death funny?

John Cleese: It is. Death is certainly present in my life, and there’s humor to be mined from it. Somebody was saying to me last week that you can’t talk about death these days without people thinking you’ve done something absolutely antisocial. But death is part of the deal. Imagine if, before you came to exist on Earth, God said, “You can choose to stay up here with me, watching reruns and eating ice cream, or you can be born. But if you pick being born, at the end of your life you have to die — that’s non-negotiable. So which do you pick?” I think most people would say, “I’ll give living a whirl.” It’s sad, but the whirl includes dying. That’s something I accept.


John Cleese on Monty Python and Political Correctness:

The Coffin Club -- Adorable Musical

The Coffin Club from Loading Docs on Vimeo.

A gentle parting eases the pain of death

"I knew her for only a few hours, yet I can never repay her kindness. I don’t even know her name. But during those frightening final hours, as we watched Dad slip away, she discreetly, gently held us together, answering our bewildered questions, asking us about his life, even — incredibly — making us laugh. With a calm quiet reassurance that so many palliative care nurses possess, honed by years spent easing the sick from this world, she transformed our truly distressing situation into an almost comforting farewell. Where and how someone dies has a profound effect on those left behind and often dictates how they cope with the loss. Witnessing the death of someone you love is a mixed blessing. Nothing can prepare you for the brutal emptiness that fills the room when life has departed...There’s no such thing as an easy death. I hope when my time comes I will have few regrets. I hope I can look into the eyes of those I love and have them know the priceless comfort and joy they have brought me during my life, right to the end."

A gentle parting eases the pain of death:

The Hard Work of Not Fixing

"We are fixated on fixing. When I was a hospice chaplain, I always thought I had the best job in the office. The hospice staff diverged from the medical model, devoting its best practices to keeping the patients comfortable at a point along the living-dying continuum when all the treatment options had been exhausted and none of them was working any longer. Still, there were a great many questions to ask, problems to solve. The nurse had to figure out which medication would alleviate George’s intractable nerve pain and which would help him sleep when he was overwhelmed by anxiety. The social worker had to assess Margaret’s caregiving team to determine if her husband and daughter were up to the challenges. I had no such agenda. I was not required to bring my laptop with me when I visited patients and their families. I was just there, doing the hard job of not fixing."


seventysomething: When it's time to stop fixing life's holes | PBS NewsHour

Grief In The Classroom: 'Saying Nothing Says A Lot' : NPR Ed : NPR

[H]ow should educators handle the death of a student's loved one? A new website — GrievingStudents.org — is trying to help teachers and school leaders answer that question. It's a database of fact sheets, advice and videos...."The teachers want to know exactly what and what not to say to a student." And that's the challenge: Most teachers aren't trained social workers. Which is why Luz Minaya welcomes the extra resources. She teaches Spanish and technology at a public middle school in New York City. The 17-year teaching veteran says she received "no training" for how to deal with student grief. "You go to college and you study to become a teacher. But no one tells you how to deal with the emotional aspect of students," Minaya says. Her school has a large population of Latino students. Many are very close to their grandparents, Minaya says, and when an elder dies, she's seen that grief affect behavior, attendance and performance. "Teachers really have a major role in the safeguarding of the student," Minaya says. "I don't want to have to depend on the guidance counselor or wait for the social worker who comes once a week." The Coalition's new site includes lots of guidance for teachers that's refreshingly specific, like this: Avoid comparisons. Saying "my father died, too" shifts attention to a competing loss and away from the grieving student. Also, avoid trying to comfort a student with any sentence that begins with "at least." Educators shouldn't try to make light of the situation or find good in the sad, says Schonfeld. The teacher's goal should be to support grieving students by making clear to them that they are safe and have someone to talk to.

Grief In The Classroom: 'Saying Nothing Says A Lot' : NPR Ed

Sally Quinn on her husband Ben Bradlee's struggles with dementia in his final years - The Washington Post

"I was devastated by Ben’s change in attitude and behavior toward me. His personality had always been sunny and optimistic. Suddenly he had become moody, downbeat, and in some instances outright hostile. Nobody else saw that side of him. It was only directed at me. I was crushed by the changes in him. They had come on gradually, but now it was clear that this behavior was intensifying and not going away. He didn’t like the idea of being “put on the couch.” He also didn’t like to be on the defensive, which he definitely was once I described the situation from my point of view. Ben seemed a bit confused when he heard me relate our problems, as though I were talking about somebody else, not him...It had been five years since he had been diagnosed with early-stage dementia, but few outside the family knew it."


Sally Quinn on her husband Ben Bradlee's struggles with dementia in his final years - The Washington Post:

The Day I'll Finally Stop Grieving

I’ve realized that Grief doesn’t just visit you for a horrible, yet temporary holiday. It moves in, puts down roots—and it never leaves. Yes as time passes, eventually the tidal waves subside for longer periods, but they inevitably come crashing in again without notice, when you are least prepared. With no warning they devastate the landscape of your heart all over again, leaving you bruised and breathless and needing to rebuild once more. Grief brings humility as a housewarming gift and doesn’t care whether you want it or not. You are forced to face your inability to do anything but feel it all and fall apart. It’s incredibly difficult in those quiet moments, when you realize so long after the loss that you’re still not the same person you used to be; that this chronic soul injury just won’t heal up. This is tough medicine to take, but more difficult still, is coming to feel quite sure that you’ll never be that person again. It’s humbling to know you’ve been internally altered: Death has interrupted your plans, served your relationships, and rewritten the script for you. And strangely (or perhaps quite understandably) those acute attacks of despair are the very moments when I feel closest to my father, as if the pain somehow allows me to remove the space and time which separates us and I can press my head against his chest and hear his heartbeat once more. These tragic times are somehow oddly comforting even as they kick you in the gut.

The Day I'll Finally Stop Grieving