The photo above was taken at my desk at hospice.
On Friday, August 01, 2008 Sally Karioth, RN, ARNP, Ph.D., was one of several speakers for a conference, Keeping Sacred Promises:Delivering Excellence in Antemortem Care sponsored by Methodist Healthcare, Memphis, Tennessee. Before speaking at the conference she graciously accepted a request to speak to our hospice group.
She has a long list of degrees, certifications, and professional memberships. You may visit the following web page: http://nursing.fsu.edu/Faculty_Staff/Profiles/Faculty/Karioth.html
She is well qualified to speak about dying and death. She travels more than 500,000 miles a year sharing what she knows about dying, death and grieving. She's a great speaker who is animated, full of warmth and tells funny stories. She cares deeply about those who are grief stricken, especially for parents who have lost a child.
After she spoke she asked if there were any questions. I wanted to know what happened in our culture that changed our perspective of death and dying from talking about it and accepting it to never talking about death and not accepting it. Her answer was penicillin.
My thoughts are that we saw doctors could cure people of their disease. People were dying less from common causes. We thought they could cure anything. Families used to be involved with their loved ones who were sick. When they died, wakes were held in the parlor. When my father was nine years old, in 1926, his maternal grandfather had died. The wake was held in my great grandparents parlor. There is a little book that I love. The title is something like Cornbread and Vinegar Pie. It is the 1890 diary of a woman, Mrs. Jackson, who lived in Arkansas. One of her entries is about how she made a face cover for a deceased neighbor. Another of my favorite books, a gift from my Cousin Sharon, is "Women's Diaries of the Westward Journey", Lillian Schlissel, @1982 Schocken Books, New York. The book covers the journeys from the East to the West from 1841 - 1867. Death on the trail was a common everyday experience. Children died from falling out of the wagons, being trampled by oxen, and a variety of disease. Mothers died of childbirth and many family members on the trail drowned while crossing rivers. Having a photograph of their deceased loved one was considered a precious treasure. They would have to bury their loved one on the trail and move on hoping to make it to Oregon or California before winter set in.
Mourning in the 1800's was a tradition that I'm glad is gone. Imagine the Civil War in this country from 1861 - 1865. A Widow would be in morning anywhere between 12-18 months. She was dressed in black, of a dead hue , not a lively blue black. The Widow's veil is made out of black crepe and was worn very long. The mourning time for parents was one year. A veil was worn, but not over the face as the Widow's veil. Mouring for a sibling, stepparents, or grandparents was a year, but the mourning period could be shorter. The Mourning Period for an aunt or uncle was 3 months. Wives and husbands wear mourning clothes for the relatives of their spouses. Mourning for children would be nine months. It was common for men and women to marry soon after the death of their spouse. Just think about the woman during the Civil War whose husband, young son or father died in battle, perhaps her father-in-law and an uncle died during war also. How long did she have to mourn? Homes were decorated with black crape, clocks stopped at the time of the person's death, photographs were covered with black crape or turned towards the wall. Visit the following web page for more info: http://mdah.state.ms.us/admin/news/manship_mourn.html
Then we move to a time when families were not told anything and not allowed to see their loved ones who were in the hospital. Death became to clean and antiseptic. Let's also remember that women had delivered babies for thousands of years without the help of doctors. When my siblings and I were born, my mother was whisked away, given "twilight" and the next thing my Daddy knew he and Momma were parents! My maternal grandmother died of colon cancer when I was 12 years old. All I knew was that my grandmother was sick and Momma would stop by her house every morning after working 3rd shift at the hospital as a nurses aid. I was shocked when she died.
In the 1970's hospice was introduced in the United States. We were encouraged to let our loved ones die at home with dignity, surrounded by friends and family and things that were familiar. Home births were also coming into fashion.
Why are we so afraid of death? It happens to all of us. We are a society who lives for the moment and ignores the future. We don't want people to know we're sick as if there were shame in it. Have you been told that you are dying? Are you keeping it a secret? Why? You are depriving yourself and your family a special time together. It's a chance to share "wouldas", "couldas", and "if only" moments can be avoided. There is a chance to make amends, to close out the business of life and enjoy the moments you have left. It is a great gift to leave for your family.
For me, the most important thing that Sally Karioth said to our group was to have "at least one exquisite moment everyday." When today is gone it is history. What history are you making today for your family to remember when you are gone?
My brother-in-law, Ronnie, cut my back field this past weekend. I decided to take a walk back there to just look at it. It was quite and just a field, but it sure felt good. The first photo is of the edge of the yard before you begin walking down the path to the back field. There really is a path there!
This photo is of the old oak tree where my father built us a tree house, or I should say a tree floor. It was just a floor with no sides and no top. During the summer I would climb up there to read a Nancy Drew mystery, the latest Book Mobile or Weekly Reader book. Sometimes I would climb higher up the tree, or just lay back and daydream. On Sundays, my girlfriend, Ramona, and I would climb up there and eat Sunday dinner. It was a real get away! The old oak has some dead places in it, but I certainly remember it with fondness.
Why would I take a photo of bushes? This is the spot where my mother had her clothes line. It was a good 50 yards from the house. She washed clothes and hung them to dry in this spot everyday for years. No matter the time of year, I can remember her hanging clothes out to dry. Of course, when my sister and I were tall enough we had to start hanging clothes to dry. It wasn't much fun when the weather was cold. In those days before the wonderful fabrics they have now, we also had to iron our clothes. A chore I never seemed to mind.
Almost to the back field. It only takes a couple of minutes to walk from the house to the field. But, when you're remembering your childhood, it takes a lot longer. There is a small, very small hill just before you enter into the field. It's as if you were walking into a sunken bedroom or den in your home. Growing up, it was more dense with bushes than it is now.
Here it is. The back field, maybe 4 acres or so. For several years this whole field was full of Dewberries. Ronnie told me there were some trees in this field that were at least 3 inches around on the trunk. The rest of the property is woods. There is a creek in the back where we would swim. At Thanksgiving my cousins, John, Dan and Quinn would go hunting back there.
Abigail and I with our new belts. I earned my orange belt and Abigail earned her brown belt. Here we are with our instructors, Lily Wiggins, 4th degree black belt and Brody Wiggins, 5th degree black belt.
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