Transformed and Transitioned

I wrote this earlier in the week, but then hesitated to post it when I realized this deadline would coincide with the day of Alicia’s memorial. I’m going ahead and posting it because death is as natural as birth. Both can be beautiful and painful, and both are experiences common to every single one of us.  GBE # 25 “Transformation”

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Three of my four siblings have died during the past three years. Two of them had long illnesses and because neither had ever married or had children, I stepped in to help them with the final leg of their journeys and advocate for them as needed. A lot of it was sad and difficult, but there was one thing that even then, in the thick of it, I found hilarious.

No one is dead or dying.

Sure, years ago people got ill or old and then were dying and ultimately, died and were, you know, dead. But not now. No one in the medical community, at least not any of the *many* medical professionals I dealt with, ever used the words dying or dead. Not once, not ever. No member of their office staff uttered the words. My siblings weren’t dying, they were transitioning. And later, they weren’t dead, they had completed their transition. Like a graduation, but without the gown and weird hat.

I get it. People don’t like the words dying and dead, especially regarding themselves or someone they love. They sound so sad, cold, and final. And really, transitioning and completing the transition are more in line with my beliefs. What we call death is, in my view, merely our ultimate earthly transformation. I believe our bodies are temporary housing. That we aren’t the vessels we strut around in nor are we the personas we each call “me.” I believe we are instead eternal energy that, when we’re done with our time here, moves on and takes up residence in whatever our next chapter might offer. So transitioning seems more accurate to me. Still, you cannot get any of them to say the words dying or dead. Believe me, I tried.

So much of the experience was painful and exhausting that I learned to take and even make light moments whenever I could. I chose to try, at every opportunity, to get one of them to slip up and use one of the d-words. I was unsuccessful. I was in constant communication with staff members from doctor’s offices, hospitals, rehabilitation locations, one nursing home, and two hospice teams. I keep trying, but no. My husband would return from work and say, “Anyone dying or dead today?” and my answer was always “Nope. Not today.”

Yes, I know that sounds twisted, but had either of them completed their transition, I would have called him at work, so he knew before he asked that we were just talking about my solemn mission. A mission never accomplished.

We still use the terms “transitioning” and “completed its transition” at my house, and it still amuses us. We’re not talking about people though, just stuff. I’ll check the date on a gallon of milk and say, “We’d better use this up, it’s transitioning.” He’ll toss a funky orange into the trash, but not before holding it up and announcing that it has completed its transition.

So yes, we’re *those* people. Life, with all its transformations and transitions, can be enormously hard sometimes. My advice is this: Stay in the moment whenever you can and take every opportunity to have a little fun, even when it seems impossible. Maybe especially then.

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