Unsung Anonymous

Good day, good people.

For devotees of the English language: Eudemonia is a noun. It means true happiness.

What is your thought about dying with dignity: with whom you want present, when you want, where you want and under the circumstances you want?

I have always been impressed by the anonymous among us. My parents lived in a retirement community when my father died without dignity. He had bone cancer and was connected to a morphine drip which did not alleviate the pain. He lay in a hospital bed placed into the guest bedroom of their home. Mother had nurses around the clock, and the stress made her appear as though she did not have them. When you see someone you love living in pain, helpless and hopeless and others living in pain, and you can do nothing about it, it becomes not describable by the English language. If you care, the scene never leaves your memory.

If there is a God who loves us, why would he do this to his people? And to tell the faithful that God works in mysterious ways to assuage them is quite unacceptable to them. There is no solace.

There were other people in the community who needed help in many ways. Mother went about quietly and with dedication to help them — anonymously. She volunteered as a Candy Striper and enjoyed the reward of helping others. Mother was a member of Eastern Star and father was a Mason.

When mother’s physical condition deteriorated to the point she could no longer care for herself, she wanted to die with dignity. Her mind at the end still had the dry acerbic humor. The mind was writing checks the body could not cash. Just before she died, I gave her a kiss. She looked at me, smiled and said, “I’ll see you later.” She died at one hundred and three years.

She was prevented by a barbaric side of our society which is controlled by money, the delusional religions, insurance companies, medical profession, hospitals and the misguided among us. So she lingered without any quality of life until her constant-companion despair killed her.

I had an unfortunate experience. I went to the hospital to see a friend who was terminally ill. She wanted to die and transmitted the information to her family and physician, but no person would come to her aid. The hospital was doing everything possible in a conspiracy with her doctor to prolong her lack of quality of life — other people’s pain and death prolonged for money. She stopped breathing three days later with her loving family present. She was at least fortunate in that respect. You never die as long as you are still loved.

But, what about all of those among us whom have no families — the invisibles, the nonexistents and the expendables? How can they be loved as they die without dignity? There are many anonymous-unidentified among us who know the truth and have compassion and empathy for others — the invisibles, the nonexistents and the expendables. The unidentified know that this life is it. They belong to the First Church of Evolution and C. Darwin is their pastor. There is no afterlife where you enjoy the reward for your good life on Earth. There is no garden or paradise — no heaven. There is no Virgil to guide you to nonexistent Cocytus. And the compassionate, honest and/or empathetic anonymous do not mislead the dying while they hold their hand waiting. They know the gods and Gods are all manmade in every culture. And this is verified in two-nonfiction books of historical significance. A History of God: The Four-Thousand Year Quest of Judaism, Christianity and Islam by Karen Armstrong the former nun and Robert Wright’s book The Evolution of God.

All people want the same two things — survive and be happy. Yes, survive and happy may be defined differently in different cultures. And part of being happy is to do what you want, when you want as long as you do not hurt or inconvenience others.

The unsung anonymous, unheralded and unidentified good people who volunteer to attend those whom are dying and are with and without families receive a substantial reward. More than money could ever give. The anonymous feel good; they help another with compassion — a balm which is given freely and with dedication. And if they have attended a terminally ill loved one previously, now they help with empathy, too. They are making a contribution to the betterment of our society.

Life is a survivor and being loved by a stranger in attendance gives life an incentive to prolong itself. Death comes slowly and the stench in the room is vile and all consuming. But the love given is oblivious to the obstacles of dedication, and she remains hand in hand with him, this stranger, at his bedside. Her forearms rest on the mattress covered sheet. The poems are read, but does he hear them? He is awake and calm. But there is no recognition. There is no greater unselfish contribution or reward than the kindnesses given by these humanitarians to strangers. There is peace of mind in not dying alone and holding the hand of another. And at the moment of death both have achieved eudemonia. For what greater gift could one give to another?

What is your thought on the contribution you can make to volunteering your compassion and/or empathy to one with or without a family present whom is in the final days of life?

I hope this post will give you something to consider. To be successful you must understand other people’s opinions and care about them.

I care about your opinion. Contacting me with comments and constructive criticisms at Daniel McNeet with honesty and pleasantness their constant companions will always be welcomed. Or, you may click on the Facebook or Twitter icons under the graphic of Operation Downfall at the bottom of the page.

Meditation Falls and Pools