In September 2015, when my mother passed away, both my brother and I were with her as she took her final breath. I remember thinking how beautiful she was. She’d been in a deep sleep for nearly a week and, over that week, she seemed to age quickly. But during the last ten minutes of her life, beauty and youth came back to her.
Can people nearing death hear us?
The medical staff told us to talk to Mum while she slept. ‘She’ll hear you’, were their words, but how could they have known? Had they once been near death’s door where they witnessed the voices of those still living, or had somebody who had experienced near-death told them what happens?
We took their advice and talked to Mum as if she was sitting there having tea and biscuits with us. However, occasionally, general chit-chat turned to tears as we told her how much we loved her and to go on her way with whoever was waiting for her. But how did we know that somebody was waiting for her?
Twelve hours earlier, Mum had briefly opened her eyes and looked up at me. I spoke to her and wondered if she knew who I was. I didn’t tell her who I was but made sure I told her that I loved her.
Having suffered from dementia for the last five years of her life, I asked myself if her condition was still stopping her from recognising me, and if she saw me as a stranger?
When she looked into my eyes, squeezed my hand gently and smiled, before closing her eyes again, I thought I knew the answer. However, years on, I still wonder if I did have the answer. Why? Because I didn’t have any proof of who she saw when she had looked up at me. However, at least she did know that she was loved.
Do books and movies hold the secrets to death?
Maybe the answers are in the fiction we read and watch? After all, whenever we read a book or watch a movie, are we witnessing what the author or authors believe about death?
When we read about a person being at ‘death’s door’, or watching a film where a death occurs, is the author sharing some of their experiences with us from a previous life they can’t quite remember?
What about those who claim to have witnessed the bright light that appears when they were near death? Are they talking from experience, or is it guesswork? Even if only a tiny amount of what they tell us happens, are they telling us what they have witnessed, or are they merely portraying it?
Do the lights go off when we die?
Is knowing you’re about to die, a gift?
Death is something many of us find difficult to talk about. When my step-father asked me to help him organise funeral plans for both him and my mother, it was something I didn’t want to talk about with him. I felt uneasy having to discuss it with him.
He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any problems in asking me to help him put the funeral plans into place. He’d already decided which company he wanted to use, how much he wanted to spend, and what would happen on the day.
After I agreed to help him, I wondered why he had chosen that time to ask for my help. He had, after all, been thinking about death because he already knew which company he wanted to use and what both funerals should include. Nine months later, he suffered a heart attack and passed away. Did he know that the actual day of his death was nearing?
Are the displays of death as beautiful as the displays of life?
Have I made any plans for my death? No. Why? There’s something about death that I don’t like talking about, yet here I am discussing it with you.
Talking about death makes people uneasy. None of us wants that, do we? However, in some circumstances, shouldn’t the discussion make us feel happy that it’s out in the open?
If talking about death takes pressure off others, why do we still not want to talk about it?
I knew that my step-father was glad when I helped him organise his and my mother’s funerals. He knew that nobody had anything to worry about when he and my mother passed away. It was all paid for, and nobody had to do anything apart from pick up a phone, and report their deaths.
Everything was taken care of. My step-father was happy, and I should be happy because some of the pressure he’d experienced with death was something I wouldn’t have to go through.
If Hell is below us, why do we still bury some of the dead in the ground?
Can only the dead answer the questions we have of death?
Do you ever wonder who the last person will be that you will see before closing your eyes and allowing death to take you on your next journey? Is there another journey after death? Are there journeys for all of us, none of us, or just some of us?
Some of us still have a birthday to look forward to this year, while the rest of us may be looking forward to a birthday next year. But what about our death day? During the last 12 months, we’ve all passed the date in the month we are going to depart this world (our death-day). Do you ever wonder about that date, knowing that it passes you by every single year?
Does not knowing the date of our death day make us better people or make our lives any more comfortable? If you knew the date of your death-day, would you change anything about the way you live your life? Would you ensure you became a better person and made the most of every single moment of your life?
Do we become isolated when we die?
Would you visit those you seldom see more often knowing that you may soon lose the chance ever to see them again?
Like my step-father did, would you ensure that loved ones are taken care of by preparing for your death? As well as celebrating a birthday, shouldn’t we all celebrate our death day?
Has the location of our death already been chosen for us?
I’ve often wondered about the place where I am going to die. Is that place already somewhere I know or is it somewhere I’ve yet to visit? Will it be at home? Will it be in a shop, theatre, cinema or a bar? What season will it occur? What day of the week will it be? Perhaps, Friday (the day I was born)?
Will I be with others who all have the same death-day as me, or will I be on my own? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be alone when death approaches me. I want to be with people (just as I was on the day I was born).
I’m not sure about being surrounded by my family and friends at the time of my death. I don’t like the thought of them watching me pass away. It wouldn’t be fair to them, would it?
However, being surrounded by total strangers seem alright. I wonder if those strangers are already in my life or if I’ve yet to encounter them?
I don’t like to think about myself dying in a hospital bed or on a beautiful beach in full sun. Although I love living by the sea, the feel of sand on my skin is something I’ve never been fond of experiencing, yet its beauty attracts me.
Can I become a rainbow when I die?
I do like the thought of dying while sitting in front of the TV, especially if what I am watching is making me laugh or feel happy.
Does the way we’d like to die change as we grow older?
When I was younger, the thought of passing away while in a passionate embrace was something I thought was one of the best ways to die. However, as I grew older, I started to think about how unfortunate it would be for the person with me at the time. Now, I wouldn’t want to find myself in that position. Would you?
Final thoughts
When I pass away, will anything or anybody replace me? How do I convince people not to be sad that I am no longer here? I want them to celebrate my life, not my death. Does grief have to come hand-in-hand with death? Even if it is a stranger who has just entered my life when I close my eyes for the final time, and sadness will be erased away by time, won’t it?
There is something about death that I do know. While we are still here, we should do all we can to ensure that the sadness that often comes with death is not the kind that buries its roots deeply into those that we leave behind.
Do the dead leave us behind, or are we leaving them behind?
Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.
Discover more from Hugh's Views & News
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Hugh's Views & News 
You opened up a big subject here, Hugh. Let me share my experience when my husband was dying. They had transported him home in an ambulance and put him into a drug-induced coma. He lingered for another week in that state. The medical people told me the same thing – that he could hear everything said even though he couldn’t respond. I don’t know if he did or not, but lots of people came by during that week to sit with him and share their last thoughts. But, at the moment when the soul left his body, there was such an incredibly overwhelming peace that filled the room. I literally saw a physical mist leave him and exit through a side door. Was that his soul? I think so. Then immediately following, I physically felt angels wings touching and holding me. It was a most profound experience. I have through the help of a medium, communicated with him since he passed and the confirmations are mind-blowing. I do not believe for one minute that everything ceases when we leave this physical body! I have proof!
Hi Jan, thanks for sharing the experience of your husband’s death with us. By proof, do you mean your experience of what happened, or do you have more proof? I’d be interested in knowing.
I was with my mother when she died but didn’t experience anything that you did. But, as somebody else mentioned in a comment, maybe what we believe in is what actually what does happen when we die?
The comments on this post have very interesting to read. I’m so glad I decided to go ahead and publish this post.
Thanks again for sharing your thoughts and experience with us.
By proof of life after death, I am referring to “visits” I’ve had from my husband since he has passed. We can dream of our departed loved ones, but there is a huge difference between a dream and a visit. Here’s an example. I had gone back to the town we lived in for a book event and while lying in bed that night, he laid down beside me. There was a depression in the mattress from where he laid and even though I couldn’t physically see him, I knew he was there. Then, there have been communications through a medium about things so personal no one else but me and him could know. Maybe what we experience is based on what we believe. If so, my belief is pretty darned strong. :)
Thank you for sharing your experiences with us, Jan. Have you ever shared these details anywhere else? It would make a very interesting blog post.
Thank you for your comments.
Hearing is the last sense to go…or so I’ve heard.
When I go, I’m going to be set on fire and have my ashes thrown into the nearest dumpster.
No service…no marker…no remembrance of any sort.
I don’t want people bearing flowers and wiping away crocodile tears…who wouldn’t give me the time of day when I was alive.
Alas…this includes my own children.
Great post.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with death about us. I don’t want my funeral to be a sad occasion either, more a celebration of my life.
Lovely article. Have you ever attended a Death Cafe? They are designed to be able to talk about death with others.
No, I’ve never heard of Death Cafes. What a good idea, though. I wonder how popular they are?
I have told my loved ones, I don’t want a funeral when I die. I want them to have a picnic with lots of good food and I want everyone to share a good thought/memory about me.
That sounds wonderful, Laurie.
There’s not much point worrying about it – we won’t know till we get there. I won’t be arranging my funeral with my kids. For one thing, I wouldn’t want to burden them with the belief that my wishes had to be carried out – they can do what they feel they want to. The other thing is, I rather hope I shall be past caring, wherever I am – or I’m not. Funerals are for the living, not the dead.
It doesn’t worry me at all. However, I would like to know some of the answers to the questions I’ve raised in this post. Just like life, death intrigues me.
This is a thought-provoking post. I wish I knew the answers to some of these questions. On the other hand, I’m glad the fact I don’t means I’m still here and alive.
Thank you. Some of the comments from those who have experienced near-death experiences may hold the answers for us, though. It’s been a fascinating discussion.
Reblogged this on Art by Rob Goldstein and commented:
From Hugh Roberts. What do you think happens when we die?
This is a great post, Hugh. I like to think your Mother knew who you were before she passed, and that she knew you loved her. In the 1980s, when so many people suddenly sickened and died, I noticed people died the way they lived: materialists who valued social status seemed to have unhappiest deaths. I wondered if this was because in death we lose it all. I also noticed people who had faith and a commitment to a cause greater than themselves had the most graceful deaths. I learned how to die from those people. When the AIDS epidemic started, the odds were high that I would be among the dying so I prepared. I made writing a priority and did my best to write my best in the time I thought I had left. I was terrified of dying without leaving a legacy. At one point, I volunteered to work with AIDS patients at San Francisco General. I discussed the physiological process of dying with many of the doctors and most said the brain is wired to die, so the moment of death is probably pleasant. I like to think they were right. How does facing death as an older man change things? I’m more accomplished, I have a better understanding of my place in the world, I participated in a social movement that won its battles and made life better for people, so I feel as if I’ve done my part to make the world a better a place. I still have a few battles to win before I’m ready to die, but if I die tomorrow I would not feel cut short, which is how I felt about dying in the 1980’s. As for what happens after death: I think we are eternal.
You’ve achieved an incredible amount during your time, Rob. Like you, I want to leave this world, feeling that I have achieved most of what I was sent here to do. I also want to leave knowing that I made the most of my life and enjoyed most of it. I’ve always been fascinated by life and why we are born. There must be reasons why we are put here, just like there must be reasons why we die when we do.
I am so grateful that I have lived long enough to see and do so much. And I believe that my life path still has a long way to go before it comes to an end. I am looking forward to meeting the people I have yet to encounter and to also live the rest of my life to the full.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts about this subject and for also reblogging the post.
You’re welcome, Hugh. I am also grateful to have lived long enough to acquire enough skill and insight to enjoy my life. I think we’re magic. :)
My grandfather died in bed with two women.
I can’t imagine how those two women must have felt when he passed away.
When the undertaker asked my octogenarian grandmother if there were any children from this third marriage (of about ten years) she replied “Not for the want of trying”.
Hi Hugh – fascinating post and comments to read about – thanks for writing it up … most has been said – I was with my Ma when she died in 2012 .. but only just made it … and certainly wasn’t ready for it as such. I was ready in that she’d been confined to bed for over 5 years with major strokes, but thankfully her brain was still functioning … the experience taught me a lot. I do believe we see things … perhaps another time scale – I don’t have it – but have experienced others who do .. and my mother occasionally was convinced there were other people around.
Thanks for writing it up for us … I think we all learn so much in the blogging fraternity circle – all the best Hilary
Hi Hilary,
Thank you for joining the discussion about this fascinating subject.
‘Another time scale’ – that sounds very interesting. It reminds me of those who say that their whole life is flashbacked to them as they die. I wonder if the ‘other people’ your mother spoke of were those she knew, strangers, or a mixture of both?
I’m overwhelmed by how well this post has done. I didn’t think many readers would want to talk about death. It seems I was very wrong.
Have a lovely weekend.
I’m a new reader to your blog, and enjoyed this piece. Lots of food for thought. I especially liked the idea of sharing your death day with others, so as not to be alone. When I was younger and used to work in palliative care, I had patients who wanted to die with all their loved ones in the room, and others who would wait until after they had all left, so as not to upset them. They wanted privacy for the final step. I think I would prefer privacy, but I quite like the idea of getting on a train/bus/cloud with all the others who share your death-day, riding off to your next adventure in eternity!
Thank you, Joni, and a big welcome to you here on Hugh’s Views and News.
I like the thought of joining everyone else who has the same death-day as me and journeying off with them to our next adventure. I think something like that makes the idea of passing away less frightening. It certainly helps in that we won’t be alone after death.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us on this subject of this post.
Very interesting ruminations on this topic. Many of which I have not considered even though I think I’ve pondered the topic too much in my “life “time. My thoughts on the topic have changed greatly as I’ve aged and lost loved ones. For now, I prefer to view death as a “transformation.” Your step-father did you a great service. There’s nothing worse when a parent has made absolutely no provisions for their date with death and you are left to decide in a time of heightened emotions. I think it’s beautiful that you told your Mom she was loved, not knowing whether or not she recognized you. something good for all of us to remember should we find ourselves in a similar situation.
Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts with us on this topic.
I agree with what you say in that our thoughts about death change as we get older. Mine certainly have.
Listening to beautiful music would be a good way to go – the best moments in a live concert when you are already feeling out of this world – However, that would not be too good for the rest of the audience! So I’ll settle for the radio being on. And what after that – our energies dissipated with all the others dying at that moment? Reincarnation – very risky, most people in the world have worse lives than us. I don’t know the answers and we might have to wait till someone blogs from the other side!
Now, there’s a thought about somebody blogging from the other side. It would make an excellent prompt for a short story, novel or movie.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us about death. Listening to music is a good one. After all, it’s something that will often help me sleep.
Hi Hugh,
I must commend you on selecting an excellent thought-provoking subject. Unfortunately, I recently experienced this with the death of my husband last January. It happened so suddenly there was not much conversation. His only words as it occurred was he couldn’t feel anything. His response leads me to believe he was not in any pain and was aware of what was happening. In 2013 I was diagnosed and treated for Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. After one of my rounds of chemo, my blood count plummeted, and I was hospitalized. Hours after being admitted, I went into respiratory arrest. In the beginning, I was panicking, but suddenly, I had a vision of a face forming from a cloud as I looked out the window. A calm came over me, and I believe I was looking at the higher power I call God.
I agree that most of us have fear at some level of death. Most of us have had experiences around this mystery, but in many cases, it is not something we should fear. If we believe in the love for us from a higher power, we should accept this love that when our death comes, it will not be a horrible experience.
Woody Allen was quoted, “It’s not that I’m afraid to die, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
Thanks for an excellent post. HUGS
Thank you, Chuck. To be honest, I’ve been somewhat taken aback by the response to this post. Given the title I gave the post, I honestly thought there would not be many readers willing to share their thoughts and experiences. How wrong I was!
The words said to you by your husband are very reassuring. I think many of us fear the pain we may feel when death approaches us. It’s certainly something that I fear more than anything about death. I didn’t mention it in the post, but if I had a choice of how I could die, I’d chose to die while asleep.
Thank you for sharing your near-death experience with us. There are so many variations which I have read and heard about near-death experiences. Somebody else mentioned in a comment that these variations could all be down to the way we think what will happen when we die. It may sound like something from a sci-fi movie, but it’s an interesting thought.
I like the quote from Woody Allen. It’s a nice one, but has me wondering that if we’re not there at the time of our deaths, then who or what has taken over that final moment from us?
Thanks again for sharing your thoughts and experiences. I enjoyed reading them.
Hugs.
Goodness, Hugh, such big questions! I don’t have any answers. Would I behave differently if I knew my death-date? I doubt it. I think of the number of friends who died young and each time I would tell myself to take it as a reminder to live life to the full every day – but then slide back into fretting about things which are pointless worryng about, putting off doing the things on the bucket list. It’s a thought-provoking post.
Thanks, Mary. I’m glad that many of you have seen this post as thought-provoking. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us on the subject. Like you, I keep telling myself to live life to the full. It’s something I try and do every day. The results have been excellent, although I do know I can do better.
You’ve given us much to think about in this post, Hugh. Taking your headline question first: no, I wouldn’t want to know my date of death in advance. Whilst it might be helpful to be able to put everything in place, I can’t see any other way in which it would help me enjoy my final days. Maybe that’s selfish, but I say it with the knowledge that I have bought a funeral plan to take care of all of the arrangements so that I have taken as much pressure as possible off my daughters. I too saw my mother suffer with dementia, but even after she lost the ability to speak I always saw a sparkle of recognition in her eyes when I visited her. It still comforts me when I think of her now, eleven years after her passing, that she knew me until the end. My father is still with us, and will be 92 in October. Your point about spending time with those we love is well made, and strikes a chord with me. I think I’m more afraid of losing Dad than I am about my own future, if I’m being totally honest.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences of death with us and answering some of my questions, Clive.
Do you mind me asking if your daughters are aware of the funeral plan you have arranged? If they do know, how did they react when you approached them about the subject?
Have you heard the quote – ‘Don’t visit me and bring me flowers when I am dead. Visit and bring me flowers while I am still alive.’ It’s a quote I came across while doing some research for this post. It really hit home with me of how little I visit family and friends who may not have as much time left as I do.
The other thing about those people is the memories they have, which may be lost once they pass away. When I do visit elder relatives, their memories and experiences of life are something I enjoy talking to them about. One of my highlights is now visiting my sole surviving aunt, who is 93 next year. She has a suitcase full of older photographs which we’re gradually going through. She has given some of them to me. At a later date, I intend passing them on (with information of who they are and where they were taken) to nephews and nieces. There’s no guarantee these memories will live forever, but I’m delighted to be able to pass them on.
Hi Hugh. I mentioned to my daughters that I was intending to buy a funeral plan in the aftermath of my Mum’s funeral, but we didn’t really discuss it. They probably won’t remember that now, and I know I should remind them of it. I also need to update my will as I don’t think I mentioned it in there. They are both quite practical people so I don’t think it will upset them!
I’ve heard quotes similar to that, and it is a sentiment that resonates with me. We should all make that effort – it’s no good waiting until it’s too late and thinking ‘what if?’ It’s lovely that you have those memories to share with your aunt and to pass on – our family doesn’t have anything like that, and I wish we did.
Does your father have any old photographs, Clive? It may be worth asking him. Until I asked my aunt the question, she’d forgotten about the suitcase she had full of old photographs. As we go through them, they bring back lots of happy memories to her. We have, however, come across some photos where she has no idea who the people in them are.
I’m afraid he doesn’t. I had that conversation with him a while back. After my parents divorced Mum kept the photo albums, and my sister and I didn’t find them after she died – I guess they got lost in various house moves over the years. You’re lucky to have those photos – they are to be treasured, even the anonymous ones.
I remember discussing my dad’s funeral with him before he died. It started out as an uncomfortable conversation but by the time we’d finished, we were both quite enthused about the whole thing. And the funeral was brilliant when it happened. I know he’d have loved it.
Some people aren’t comfortable talking about death, but it isn’t going away any time soon, so we do need to be more open about it. I’m in the fortunate position of having nearly died at birth. I say fortunate, because it means every day I have on this planet is a bonus. If I go tomorrow, I’ve been very lucky. We have to make the most of our time here, and we have to spend it with the people we want to spend it with. Fewer regrets that way.
I think many of us would be relieved after discussing our funeral arrangements, Graeme. The problem for many seems to be able to open the door to something that we see as a horrible and unhappy event. If it’s talked about, it can certainly take off a lot of pressure when the time comes. Despite being shocked and not wanting to talk about it at first, I was thankful that my stepfather took the steps in approaching me to ask for my help in putting arrangements into place. Writing this post has certainly given me the drive to put arrangements in place for both my funeral and that of my partner.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences on this subject.
Reading this Hugh on 4th anniversary of mjm’s Death & quite cathartic thanks. Will revisit.
Take care, Margaret.
What a thought-provoking post, Hugh, with lots of questions, some of which I may be able to answer and some not. I do think about my death and funeral and have a few ideas about my farewell. However, I haven’t made any firm plans yet. I keep thinking I must do that. I’m hoping for a more environmentally friendly way to deal with my remains before I go. I guess that means I’m not planning on bowing out any time soon. I’m not sure if Death has other plans for me though. Who knows?
And who knows if it’s ‘death’ that has those plans for us, Norah? Maybe it’s ‘life’ that has the plans for our deaths?
Your comments reminded me of my sister-in-law, who has told us that she wants her body donated to science after she passes away. This somewhat worries me, because if they take away specific organs etc., does that mean she won’t have them when she gets to wherever it is we go when we die?
I keep thinking that I must prepare for my death, yet it’s something I keep putting off, too. Maybe, as others have mentioned, it’s because it’s not a subject most of like talking about.
I do like what you say about being more environmentally friendly when it comes to our bodies after death. Given today’s worries about climate change, I wonder if it’s something that is already offered?
I guess life and death are all part of the one journey, aren’t they? But we know which one will win the battle eventually.
I wonder about donating organs too, but what a wonderful gift. You can’t be more generous than that.
Neither burial nor cremation are very environmentally friendly. There are already environmentally friendlier options but they’re not available everywhere. I heard about two on TED talks that I like the sound of. One involves a mushroom body suit that decomposes the body into useful compost. The other is like a sack that contains the body and a tree seed which is planted to form a forest. Either of those would do me.
I like the idea of my body in a sack with the seed of a tree, Norah. Just imagine all the new trees it would create if we were all taken care of that way? All those new trees absorbing all the extra carbon-dioxide we humans have put in the atmosphere. It’s a great idea.
I think so too, Hugh.