After a very busy past couple of days, tonight I welcome the quiet. I am sure my own experience is quite different from that of my deceased sister-in-law's husband and their 14 year old son. It is hard to witness such personal grief and not, at least for a passing moment, picture youself touched by the same misfortune; me lying in that casket, or my wife, or my child.
If death itself were not enough, it is tragic to see the in-fighting among family members trying to advance theirselves as the definitive voice of the deceased's wishes. Perhaps my sister-in-law anticipated the difficulties when she chose prior to her death to prearrange her own funeral. I spoke with the owner of the funeral home. He indicated that many recognize and talk about the importance of prearrangement following the death of a loved one, but 90% will never follow through.
My mother-in-law, already burdened beyond measure by the death of her daughter (Afterall, age doesn't really matter, does it? It seems nature is disordered in some way when a parent must bury a child.), was further anguished by her belief that Teresa experienced, as she put it, "a horrible death." I tried with the last post to reframe what she saw in the hope she could remember what took place with a degree of peace from a more comforting perspective.
© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
The Moment of Death
My time to be here nears its end. I have faced trials, hardship and disease and have fought a good, hard fight and given my all. I have endured pain and suffering beyond imagination. But no matter how brave, how noble, how determined, in the end it is not up to me to determine how long will be this season called life.
I know the end is near. I'm scared. My departure is like walking down a darkened street alone. I am saddened. I have no choice but to let go of loved ones, friends, interests, hobbies, treasured moments, my as yet unfulfilled dreams. I am hopeful that when I breathe my last the lights don't go out for good, that something of me remains and continues, that my life and my time here has made a difference, that things are not what they would have been had I never been here. I can only hope that what awaits me is even more beautiful, more satisfying, more fulfilling, more free.
Why must death be so final and total? Is it because I cannot enter into what lies ahead with any ties to where I came from? Or is it because this life, this season must relinquish its hold on me so that who and what I am can truly be free and set out to discover its ever deeper destiny?
My eyes are open and I can see what is going on around me, loved ones touching me, holding me and speaking their love to me. I see their tears. Although my imminent death's finality makes it a sad occasion, they have gathered to send me off. Even though they do not want to let go they are wishing me well. They are giving to me that part of them that I touched to take with me on my journey.
But my vision grows dim and what I see before me blurs, beyond that I begin to see images I had not noticed before. I cannot see it clearly, but it is more beautiful than the most spectacular sunrise or sunset I have ever seen. Beyond the desperation and frustration and turmoil of those immediately about me there is a stillness, a softness, a calm that I find myself drawn toward. I hear a song that I have heard before, not on any radio but the faint whisper of a tune that has played before from within. It is such a beautiful song, so soothing. It lifts something deep within me and frees me from the grips of my pain and suffering.
My breathing has become more difficult, more desperate, more labored and those about me are concerned, but it causes me no discomfort and I'm not afraid of suffocating. As my breaths diminsh, the vision beyond draws nearer and I find more and more of me lifted into its soft presence. Unexplainedly I have begun to leave my body and am being welcomed into a new home in the warm, comforting and inviting light. My body can no longer swallow, or is it perhaps because I no longer am conscious of the need to swallow or any other need for that matter? My breaths, now fewer and farther between, pass through fluids that build up in my throat creating an eerie rattle that alarms those around me. As if in desperation they draw closer to me, frustrated that there is nothing they can do now to save me. I wish I could assure them that I am not hurting like I used to, I am not in discomfort. Although I cannot quite focus on what my eyes see opening up before me just beyond those who still attend to my broken, failing body, it undeniably draws me closer. Where in the past I usually feared the unknown, I find nothing at all alarming about what I see. If this is death, it does not approach as one watches a storm draw near in the midst of an ominous sky.
Rare in life was the depth of comfort and peace that now embraces me. In a lifetime of falling asleep, I was used to closing my eyes and entering into a world of darkness. But now I find myself falling asleep not in darkness, but in the most beautiful and serene light I could ever imagine. The peace I now feel within me allows me to be restful in a way my pain and suffering would never allow. I am growing sleepy now, but I no longer fear not waking up. Something inside me knows and accepts that when I do I will not open my eyes to see my loved ones, my home or my life again, not in the same way.
As I grow more and more sleepy and find myself nodding into sleep, I feel myself lifted fully into the light now. Below me a nurse listens intently to my chest shaking her head no when she no longer detects a heartbeat or breathing. She steps aside and tells my family they only have 2 or 3 more minutes. One by one my family approachs my lifeless body to plant one last kiss, to share one last word.
Thank you for your love and your words, my beloved ones! I too love you, but I am no longer inside the body you cling to. I am up here watching over you. It is going to be okay. I feel free now. I am still here but am not bound by the limits of that broken, lifeless body you mourn. My spirit soars as if with wings and I am eager and excited to see what awaits me. But for now I must rest, entering one last sleep. I am not afraid. I am alive!
Copyright 2006 Don Neale, Jr.
All rights reserved.
I know the end is near. I'm scared. My departure is like walking down a darkened street alone. I am saddened. I have no choice but to let go of loved ones, friends, interests, hobbies, treasured moments, my as yet unfulfilled dreams. I am hopeful that when I breathe my last the lights don't go out for good, that something of me remains and continues, that my life and my time here has made a difference, that things are not what they would have been had I never been here. I can only hope that what awaits me is even more beautiful, more satisfying, more fulfilling, more free.
Why must death be so final and total? Is it because I cannot enter into what lies ahead with any ties to where I came from? Or is it because this life, this season must relinquish its hold on me so that who and what I am can truly be free and set out to discover its ever deeper destiny?
My eyes are open and I can see what is going on around me, loved ones touching me, holding me and speaking their love to me. I see their tears. Although my imminent death's finality makes it a sad occasion, they have gathered to send me off. Even though they do not want to let go they are wishing me well. They are giving to me that part of them that I touched to take with me on my journey.
But my vision grows dim and what I see before me blurs, beyond that I begin to see images I had not noticed before. I cannot see it clearly, but it is more beautiful than the most spectacular sunrise or sunset I have ever seen. Beyond the desperation and frustration and turmoil of those immediately about me there is a stillness, a softness, a calm that I find myself drawn toward. I hear a song that I have heard before, not on any radio but the faint whisper of a tune that has played before from within. It is such a beautiful song, so soothing. It lifts something deep within me and frees me from the grips of my pain and suffering.
My breathing has become more difficult, more desperate, more labored and those about me are concerned, but it causes me no discomfort and I'm not afraid of suffocating. As my breaths diminsh, the vision beyond draws nearer and I find more and more of me lifted into its soft presence. Unexplainedly I have begun to leave my body and am being welcomed into a new home in the warm, comforting and inviting light. My body can no longer swallow, or is it perhaps because I no longer am conscious of the need to swallow or any other need for that matter? My breaths, now fewer and farther between, pass through fluids that build up in my throat creating an eerie rattle that alarms those around me. As if in desperation they draw closer to me, frustrated that there is nothing they can do now to save me. I wish I could assure them that I am not hurting like I used to, I am not in discomfort. Although I cannot quite focus on what my eyes see opening up before me just beyond those who still attend to my broken, failing body, it undeniably draws me closer. Where in the past I usually feared the unknown, I find nothing at all alarming about what I see. If this is death, it does not approach as one watches a storm draw near in the midst of an ominous sky.
Rare in life was the depth of comfort and peace that now embraces me. In a lifetime of falling asleep, I was used to closing my eyes and entering into a world of darkness. But now I find myself falling asleep not in darkness, but in the most beautiful and serene light I could ever imagine. The peace I now feel within me allows me to be restful in a way my pain and suffering would never allow. I am growing sleepy now, but I no longer fear not waking up. Something inside me knows and accepts that when I do I will not open my eyes to see my loved ones, my home or my life again, not in the same way.
As I grow more and more sleepy and find myself nodding into sleep, I feel myself lifted fully into the light now. Below me a nurse listens intently to my chest shaking her head no when she no longer detects a heartbeat or breathing. She steps aside and tells my family they only have 2 or 3 more minutes. One by one my family approachs my lifeless body to plant one last kiss, to share one last word.
Thank you for your love and your words, my beloved ones! I too love you, but I am no longer inside the body you cling to. I am up here watching over you. It is going to be okay. I feel free now. I am still here but am not bound by the limits of that broken, lifeless body you mourn. My spirit soars as if with wings and I am eager and excited to see what awaits me. But for now I must rest, entering one last sleep. I am not afraid. I am alive!
Copyright 2006 Don Neale, Jr.
All rights reserved.
Friday, February 17, 2006
GOD Speaks
"I know how hard it is in these times to have faith, but maybe if you could have the faith to start with, maybe the times would change. You could change them. Think about it. Try. And try not to hurt each other. There's been enough of that, and it really gets in the way. No matter how hopeless, helpless, mixed up and scary it all gets, it can work. If you find it hard to believe in me, maybe it would help you to know I believe in you."
- George Burns as GOD on the stand in defense of Jerry Landers
© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.
- George Burns as GOD on the stand in defense of Jerry Landers
© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Jury Duty
Heeding the taped telephone instructions given a day earlier for Jury Panel "D" as in Donald to report to the Jury Assembly Room at 8:15 am, I first treasured the extra hour and a half of sleep that exercising my civic duty afforded me. Always fearful of having to park a mile away or finding myself without a chair to sit in, I planned to arrive 45 minutes early, a strategy that enabled me to secure a prime parking space I had no intention of relinquishing should my day extend beyond lunch. By 5 minutes to 8:00, I passed through the metal detectors having grown well acquainted with their idiosyncracies in over ten years of working in a state prison. I passed by a woman who expressed surprise that her cell phone was not permitted in the courtroom and boarded the elevator bound for the 4th floor where I joined a growing legion of prospective jurors holding up the walls because the Assembly Room doors had not been unlocked.
As I looked over those gathered by random selection from drivers licenses and state picture IDs, I expected to see a snapshot of the community in which I reside. To my surprise men outnumbered women 2-to-1 and minorities were disproprtionately few in number (5 or 6 out of a pool of 80-90), an observation that stood out given that better than half of the offenders I classify in prison are other than white. I would think about this often as I listened to the presiding Circuit Court Judge espouse the value of fair and impartial and a jury of one's peers during the jury selection process that came later that morning.
Five minutes late, the doors to the Assembly Room finally opened from within reminiscent of the doors opening to the castle of the Wizard of Oz in the Emerald City. Emerging to greet us was Juror Coordinator and Deputy Court Clerk Betty, a short dignified woman who appeared to be in her late 40's or early 50's. After splitting us into two groups by panel letter, we were instructed to file past a desk and announce to her our name and round trip mileage. Once all had checked in and were seated, Clerk Betty invited us to partake of the coffee and water in the back of the room which she jokingly observed was "on us," the tax payer. Orientation consisted of a 20 minute video presentation hosted by ABC News legal correspondent Tim O'Brien on the role of the juror in our justice system. Following the video was an additional 5 minute clip of Clerk Betty reading to us the nuts and bolts of jury service afterwhich she previewed for us what was to follow by asking if anyone would have difficulty serving as a juror on a trial that could last over a week. Armed with renewed appreciation for the value of my service, we were marched into the courtroom where jury selection began for a day care provider charged with manslaughter in the death of a 12 week old infant while under her care.
Clerk Betty also made the point during her presentation of the savings of tax dollars whenever the mere thought of jurors assembled and waiting in the wings could itself bring parties together to reach agreement without a trial. On the surface such a claim sounds both reasonable and appealing but I am often struck working in a prison how many are committed to Corrections to serve a sentence who are non-assaultive and pose minimal risk to the community. Might more tax dollars be saved if, instead of pressuring offenders to accept pleas that may look good on the resume of a prosecutor seeking re-election, we keep such offenders in the community and on their jobs paying taxes instead of incurring the $27,000 a year it costs to house them in prison?
Because my county uses a unified jury system, one pool is available should there be a need in probate, family, district or circuit court. Following a long selection process that extended into the afternoon, I was not seated among the 14 jurors selected for the present trial. Excused for the day, I must now wait until after 5pm to place a call to see if I'll get that extra sleep and be back in the morning or if I'll be headed for another day of work.
© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.
As I looked over those gathered by random selection from drivers licenses and state picture IDs, I expected to see a snapshot of the community in which I reside. To my surprise men outnumbered women 2-to-1 and minorities were disproprtionately few in number (5 or 6 out of a pool of 80-90), an observation that stood out given that better than half of the offenders I classify in prison are other than white. I would think about this often as I listened to the presiding Circuit Court Judge espouse the value of fair and impartial and a jury of one's peers during the jury selection process that came later that morning.
Five minutes late, the doors to the Assembly Room finally opened from within reminiscent of the doors opening to the castle of the Wizard of Oz in the Emerald City. Emerging to greet us was Juror Coordinator and Deputy Court Clerk Betty, a short dignified woman who appeared to be in her late 40's or early 50's. After splitting us into two groups by panel letter, we were instructed to file past a desk and announce to her our name and round trip mileage. Once all had checked in and were seated, Clerk Betty invited us to partake of the coffee and water in the back of the room which she jokingly observed was "on us," the tax payer. Orientation consisted of a 20 minute video presentation hosted by ABC News legal correspondent Tim O'Brien on the role of the juror in our justice system. Following the video was an additional 5 minute clip of Clerk Betty reading to us the nuts and bolts of jury service afterwhich she previewed for us what was to follow by asking if anyone would have difficulty serving as a juror on a trial that could last over a week. Armed with renewed appreciation for the value of my service, we were marched into the courtroom where jury selection began for a day care provider charged with manslaughter in the death of a 12 week old infant while under her care.
Clerk Betty also made the point during her presentation of the savings of tax dollars whenever the mere thought of jurors assembled and waiting in the wings could itself bring parties together to reach agreement without a trial. On the surface such a claim sounds both reasonable and appealing but I am often struck working in a prison how many are committed to Corrections to serve a sentence who are non-assaultive and pose minimal risk to the community. Might more tax dollars be saved if, instead of pressuring offenders to accept pleas that may look good on the resume of a prosecutor seeking re-election, we keep such offenders in the community and on their jobs paying taxes instead of incurring the $27,000 a year it costs to house them in prison?
Because my county uses a unified jury system, one pool is available should there be a need in probate, family, district or circuit court. Following a long selection process that extended into the afternoon, I was not seated among the 14 jurors selected for the present trial. Excused for the day, I must now wait until after 5pm to place a call to see if I'll get that extra sleep and be back in the morning or if I'll be headed for another day of work.
© Copyright 2006 gentlefootprint. All Rights Reserved.
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