My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Dying In Private
It seems death should always be a private experience. The idea of people waiting and watching seems intrusive, and perhaps disrespectful, even though that is not what they intend. It is its public-ness that gives to Jesus' death the ignominious aspect -- rather than it being by crucifixion, which is only the means. In our culture there is a feeling the dying person requires company or reinforcement as they undertake a difficult transition, but I think that may suggest more the fear of the living than the experience of the dying.
Labels:
dying,
fear,
Jesus,
perspective,
waiting
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