Edition #1147

Tuesday. And thank you for hanging in during my brief pause in producing these Nuggets. The reason will become clear soon, even though it is really just a personal one.

And I must begin with this caveat: with all of the shit going on in the world, I apologize for today’s edition topic. A singular topic today, which may be brief or may drag on. I have a lot to say, but not sure at this point how deep I will go. But the topic is death and how we handle it.

Last week, we buried my mother. Just shy of her 103^rd birthday, she was ready. She lived a long, healthy, productive, active, loving life. (For those interested, below I have included my eulogy to her, as I hope I captured a bit of who she was and how she impacted others) But in the end, she saw the reality of what was coming and was just ready. Her problem was that, even though she was getting weaker and outings and activities had become more of an effort than anything, her body was healthy. She lived a healthy life to the end. She was not afraid of dying; she was not anxious about the inevitability of it, but instead, as I said, she was ready. So whether consciously or not, about two months ago, she set herself on the course. She basically stopped eating or drinking, aside from the occasional scoop of ice cream…I mean she wasn’t dead yet. And over the course of the ensuing time she had left, we watched as she wasted away. It was a sad and brutal time. She slept longer and longer, or, in a delusional state, would stay up for days. She was clearly not there, yet her otherwise healthy body would not cooperate. She was not in any pain, she was not in distress, and she had the occasional lucid moments.

But I tell you this not to relive it, but as an illustration of how, as a society, we suck at dying. No, that did not come out right. We suck at dealing with the reality of dying. Not too long ago, humans were surrounded by death, by the suffering of illnesses that robbed life, and just by the reality of our finite lives. But modern medicine and our modern lifestyles have allowed us to cheat death for a while, and to file the suffering of death away into the sterile venue of the hospital or some other facility. And that new reality has allowed us to lose touch with a basic fact of life. Death is inevitable, regardless of what some way-too-rich tech bros think they can engineer. But we do not deal with it very well. We allow our loved ones to suffer far longer than is necessary, as we suffer along with them. Aside from some recent personal experiences, I read this article, which shows a different, I would suggest a more humane, way to deal with end-of-life issues.

While some moves have been made to allow for someone to take control over their own end, the restrictions on that process, borne, I believe, in the paranoia of nefarious actors taking advantage, are unreasonable and unnecessary. As I understand it, in most jurisdictions in which assisted suicide has been legalized, a patient needs to be of sound mind to make the decision, and two doctors need to certify that death would occur within six months. So, if my mom would have determined six months ago, when she was completely lucid, to have a gathering of her family and then take the pill, she would have been denied that right because she was not ill. And once she began her path to death, she was not lucid enough to make the call.

Similarly, if someone is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or dementia or some other debilitating disease, where your life could continue for many years, with the inevitability of what is coming slowly taking its toll, you could not avail yourself of the right to determine how your life would end. You would be locked into that reality, as would your loved ones. And the same could be said of many more diseases where the inevitability, or even probability, of what is coming cannot be changed, but the laws demand that you experience it.

And I am not saying in any way that those faced with these decisions or realities must make a decision to end their lives early. These are clearly personal decisions between a patient and their families. But I can tell you with certainty that if I were in that position, I would clearly want to avoid what I believe is unnecessary suffering for all concerned. While I have many great memories of my mom over the course of my life, I will never be able to unsee the emaciated, delusional woman who was left at the end.

My mom’s death was, in many ways, what we would all desire, aside from the last few months. Healthy, loving, relevant, and meaningful. But I also recently experienced the other side of that equation. Last Fall, we lost a twenty-four-year-old nephew to cancer. It was tragic and difficult for all concerned. Susie and I had the opportunity to spend some time with him during that time, sitting with him during one of his many, many chemotherapy sessions. It was time that we will always treasure. He was an intelligent, funny, engaging, sorrowful young man who had a bright future before him. There is no world in which this was fair. He was a truly good soul, even if too liberal for me. But it was at his memorial service six months later that I realized how truly gifted he was. I said he was sorrowful, and I believe that is true. I always got the feeling that he felt separate from others, felt different and not included. But at the memorial, people from every aspect of his life, from different times in his life, all came up to speak of the impact that he had on them. They recalled a man who showed a genuine interest in them, who was as present as one can be, and who offered a friendship that would survive the test of time. They described a friend who helped them in life and whose loss they felt deeply. While his memory will always be with us, the promise that he represented will be sorely missed. He was a truly good soul.

Here is my eulogy to my mom…tearfully delivered…

Although mentioned already, I have to comment myself on…parsley. My mother was a great entertainer. She could whip up a dinner party at a moment’s notice. But the one thing that she beat into us, over and over, was that you never, ever, ever, ever put out a platter of food without a green garnish, most notably…parsley. It became such a running joke that for decades we would tease her that instead of flowers for her funeral, we would put out parsley. And so, if you notice, while we did opt for some white flowers on her casket, the green that you see embedded in that floral display…yes, parsley.

I really don’t know where to go with this eulogy. There was, after all, more to my mom than parsley. How do you recall the life of a woman who lived to short her 103^rd birthday by a mere fifteen days? It might be easy to relay her accomplishments, the positions she held, or the roles she played in whatever community she found herself in. And there were many. But I am not going there. Yes, she was an important force within the Jewish community and more, both locally and beyond. She did accomplish much and motivated many. But that is not how I define my mother. After all, the only position of importance that she held to my siblings and me was that of our mother.

And she was an incredible mother. I am sure that she learned how to be so by her own mother, my Nana Sara, who raised three daughters in Massapequa, Long Island, New York. As the baby of the three, a position to which I can relate, she had, I believe, a loving relationship with her older sister, Bea, the good one, as well as Roz, the more colorful one. At some point, there was some dissent in the family when her parents advised her not to get involved with this guy named Ozzie…but perhaps showing some of the determination that she would grow into as she overcame the shy, timid woman she apparently was back then…Ozzie became the man to whom she subsequently devoted her life for almost seventy-three years. A marriage that was pretty much always a loving and joyful one. I mean, we all have our days, right…not me, of course, but most.

But it was out of this that Jerry, Carol, and I were created. And within this family we were all supported and nurtured and loved. The love that my parents had for each other just spilled out and encompassed us all. But it wasn’t only about how she impacted us.

Through it all, Mom’s dedication to helping others was a part of her being. The stories my parents often told about the importance of philanthropy in their childhoods molded them into leaders in their community. I cannot count the number of times that I hear from others about how influential Dorothy Goren was in mentoring them into community service. And it is not just in passing that these comments are made, not just something to say. The message of the impact she had on others is delivered with a deep gratitude. It was how she made others feel when they interacted with her that defined who she really was. She was interested in seeing them for who they were and guiding them, by suggestion or example, into being more. It was a gift that I do not believe she knew she had, but it was a gift that benefited many.

She died at 102, shortly before her 103^rd birthday, as I said…after a long and healthy life, a life full of meaning and accomplishments. A life well lived, full of love and devotion, and as a role model for so many. She was ready, and she willed it to happen on her terms. I love you, Mom. And I will miss you.