Grieving Parent

Tag: death

  • New Attitude on Dying

    New Attitude on Dying

    OK I’ll admit it. The idea of dying has always scared me to death.

    I’ve never wanted to do it.

    After I reached my 50th birthday I figured I had just started living my second fifty years. I’ve always wanted to live as long as possible.

    Losing one of my children has changed my attitude.

    If I have any chance to see my kid again, it will come through death.

    No I don’t have any plans to speed the process up. But it’s no longer so scary.

    Maybe part of this is because I feel I’ve lost a big part of my reason for life. Yes that’s silly. I still have much to be thankful and happy for. But I do feel lost.

    And I do want to see Richard again. He doesn’t seem to be able to come to me, so I’ll have to go to him. Only one way to do that.

    So when the time comes, I won’t be so afraid.

  • Franklin on Death

    Franklin on Death

    The founders of our nation were pretty smart folks.

    Following the death of his brother John Franklin, Benjamin Franklin wrote this letter to Elizabeth Hubbard, his brothers stepdaughter, on February 22, 1756

    Dear Child,

    I condole with you, we have lost a most dear and valuable relation, but it is the will of God and Nature that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to enter into real life: ’tis rather an embrio state, a preparation for living: a man is not completely born until he be dead: Why then should we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals? A new member added to thier happy society? We are spirits. That bodies should be lent us, while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow creatures, is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for these purposes and afford us pain instead of pleasure — instead of an aid, become an incumbrance and answer none of the intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourselves prudently choose a partial death. In some cases a mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely since the pain goes with it, and he that quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains and possibilities of pain and diseases it was liable to or capable of making him suffer.

    Our friend and we are invited abroad on a party of pleasure–that is to last forever. His chair was first ready and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniengly start together, and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and we know where to find him.

    Addieu.
    B. F.