Recently my secretary, who had been with me most of the 11 years I have been in America, died after a long illness. I pondered how to break the news to my two daughters, who had been very close to her.
The girls’ nurse came into the room while I was talking with Melanie, my 9-year-old, and said, “The funeral will be on Monday.”
“What funeral?” asked Melanie, her eyes bright with interest. Francesca is 5, and not quite so curious.
“Vivian’s, dear,” I told her. “You know how she has been ill for a long time. Well, she has died.”
Melanie thought for a moment, then said, “Oh, well, she will always be with us.”
“That’s right, dear,” I said, surprised and happy with her reply. “Her spirit will always be with us.”
What a wonderful reaction to death! I thought. Not many of us can view death with such wholesome clarity. Usually it is the very young or the very old.
My dear father-in-law has utterly no fear of dying. “What a relief it will be!” he exclaims. “No children to worry about. No grandchildren to climb all over me. No newspapers to read with pages filled of cruelty and destruction!”
I can see how this splendid attitude toward death can also be given to the very sick. I experienced it myself when I was making “Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison” in the West Indies.
We were out on the water one morning in a launch that was tied up. The sun was beating down furiously; I would have been burnt to a crisp if I didn’t have my nun’s habit on. The diesel fumes were pouring over us. Being tied up, the launch rocked terribly. Plus which there were ocean swells.
I became so dreadfully seasick that I very happily would have slid over the side and disappeared into the water. It was a very appealing thought to me.
Why can we view death without fear only when we are very young, very old or very sick?
I believe it’s because we are every day instilled with the fear of death.
The girls’ nurse came into the room while I was talking with Melanie, my 9-year-old, and said, “The funeral will be on Monday.”
“What funeral?” asked Melanie, her eyes bright with interest. Francesca is 5, and not quite so curious.
“Vivian’s, dear,” I told her. “You know how she has been ill for a long time. Well, she has died.”
Melanie thought for a moment, then said, “Oh, well, she will always be with us.”
“That’s right, dear,” I said, surprised and happy with her reply. “Her spirit will always be with us.”
What a wonderful reaction to death! I thought. Not many of us can view death with such wholesome clarity. Usually it is the very young or the very old.
My dear father-in-law has utterly no fear of dying. “What a relief it will be!” he exclaims. “No children to worry about. No grandchildren to climb all over me. No newspapers to read with pages filled of cruelty and destruction!”
I can see how this splendid attitude toward death can also be given to the very sick. I experienced it myself when I was making “Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison” in the West Indies.
We were out on the water one morning in a launch that was tied up. The sun was beating down furiously; I would have been burnt to a crisp if I didn’t have my nun’s habit on. The diesel fumes were pouring over us. Being tied up, the launch rocked terribly. Plus which there were ocean swells.
I became so dreadfully seasick that I very happily would have slid over the side and disappeared into the water. It was a very appealing thought to me.
Why can we view death without fear only when we are very young, very old or very sick?
I believe it’s because we are every day instilled with the fear of death.
