There used to be something called A good death. That was considered one when the one that was leaving was surrounded by their families and death was expected. A bad death was one that came unexpected far from loved and all alone. Country folks used to come from miles around and stand in the yard, if they couldnt get in the house and stand vigil until their neighbor and drawn their last breath. We have a cult of death in this County. Folks are scared to death of death. We hide our departing ones behind curtions in a hospital or locked away in a nursing home. Years ago, that would be the devinition of a bad death. I have three choices for dying: In the pulpit. In the garden. In my own bed surrounded by my dogs and loved ones. Like Jacob, I would like to pass the blessing on to my grandchildren.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 00:07:46 +0000
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