Embracing the Grim Reaper with a Wink and a Smile: A Humorous Look at Stephen Jenkinson's Call to "Die Well"
“We each have a moral obligation to die well.”
These words, spoken by the wise Stephen Jenkinson, serve as a poignant reminder of our shared destiny and the importance of facing it with grace and humor. After all, in the realm of mortality, a touch of levity can be the greatest gift we give ourselves.
Jenkinson's quote, "we each have a moral obligation to die well," may seem like a weighty decree at first glance. Yet, when viewed through the lens of death-wise consciousness and a humble reverence for our undeniable interconnectedness, it takes on a form and function.
Imagine the god of death, with his cloak of shadows and his bony grin, looking upon you as you navigate the final act of your existence. Is it not fitting to meet his gaze with a smile and a quip, ready to dance with him in the waltz of eternity?
To die well is not just about making peace with our mortality; it is about embracing the full spectrum of the human experience with open arms. It is about finding solace in laughter, even in the face of the great unknown. It is about crafting our final moments as a work of art, a masterpiece of humor and heart.
What does it look like for us to fulfill this moral obligation to die well? I believe it starts with shifting from death-denying and death-phobic mindset and into death-wise, life honoring, Memento Mori - Remember you must die mindset. As individuals create this mindset for themselves then our death denying and destructive social practices will shift with us.
It looks like planning your own funeral, long before you get there, so your family only needs to grieve.
It looks like being responsible about medical health care directives and having a capable and reliable person who will make sure your directives are carried out.
It looks like being reasonable about interventions to prolong your life, you must be aware of the impact it will have on your family and society. There is such a thing as too much intervention to prolong a poor quality of life.
It looks like writing letters to your loved ones every two years and keep them in your special “death box” for the day of your departure. You can rest easy knowing they will receive your love and admiration in some way.
It looks like laying on your deathbed, surrounded by those you hold dear, sharing stories and jokes that bring tears of both laughter and love. Envision the god of death, leaning in with a chuckle, appreciating the beauty of your final performance.
Indeed, the art of dying well is not just a duty; it is a privilege, a chance to embrace our mortality with a twinkle in our eye and a skip in our step. As we heed Stephen Jenkinson's call to meet our end with dignity and humor, let us remember that in the grand cosmic comedy, even death itself can be the punchline we never saw coming. So let us face the god of death with a wink and a smile, ready to tango into the great unknown with all the grace and mirth we can muster. After all, as Jenkinson reminds us, "we each have a moral obligation to die well."
