WARNING!
In the blog post I'm writing about death. Not blood or any of that, just my thoughts of growing old and dying with honour. If you do not wish to read about this, I suggest you exit and pop back another day.
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About here I'm probably imagining that you're wondering why I'm talking about death. Well, me and some friends of mine started talking about dying of old age plus I read an article in a Norwegian newspaper (Dagbladet) about the life expectancy in Norway. That's basically it really. The death of a young person is the most tragic thing in the world and I do not envy anyone this tragic event. That's not what I'm on about here. What I'm on about is growing old after having lived a great life and dying of old age.
According to the statistics a Norwegian man born between 1991 and 1995 will, in average, live until he's 74,4 years old. (Haha, if you're born in 1990, jokes). I plan on living my life to the full and at least reach 70. So I've got loads of years ahead of me and talking about death seems like the oddest thing ever.
I remember when my great-grandmother was hospitalized. At the time I was 8 years old. She was in a bad state and had tubes and wires hooked up to her. I was asked if I wanted to go and see her, but I said no. I think I didn't want to see her like that, so fragile, so vulnerable. Today I kinda regret not going I think, but what's done is done. Anyhoodle, she had explicitly said that she did not want to be kept alive by machines when that time came, she wanted to die in peace. That's a wish I respect. My great-grandmother kept it going to the very end. I remember visiting her in her apartment in Oslo and making the most amazing chocolate cakes with green peppermint icing. That's what I remember. The laughter, the smells and the experiences. I remember I wasn't crying in the church, even though everyone around me was. I started crying when I saw my grandmother cry outside as the coffin was taken away.
Dying with honour is something I think is really important and something that every single person has the right to. Over the past couple of years I've heard of several cases in the papers were senior citizens in nursing homes/retirement homes in Norway have been told when they could shower, use the toilet, go for a walk and when to go to bed, or sometimes worse, being denied it. I think that's bloody outrageous! How awful! These citizens deserve so much better.
That's why I'm planning on not going to a retirement home, unless conditions improve dramatically. I really can't imagining "living" a life where I can't wipe my own behind after I've been to the toilet or not remembering my kids when they come visit me. Or walking off in the middle of the day and heading into town not knowing who or where I am. To me that's not living. To me that's not honour.
When you loose the ability to do those basic things and have to be in care, that's when life ends in my opinion. This may sound harsh and you might even hate me for saying this, but think about it. Would you like having a nurse wipe your behind and shower you at specific times of the day? (Having said that, the staff working with senior citizens are doing an amazing job and I applaud you for that! So please don't take this as criticism towards you.) I don't care if I can get 5 more years, if the price I have to pay is my freedom and my mind. I'd rather die 75 and sound at mind than 80 after 5 years in care and dementia...
That's why when the day comes that the doctor asks for my driving license, gives me a walking chair, sends me off to a retirement home and my memory is slipping, I plan on letting it all go. I'd rather my future children and grand children remember the strong me. There's no shame in wanting to die when you've reached the end of the line. To die with your honour intact.
My funeral is going to be a blast. In Western cultures and societies, it’s common that funerals are a time for mourning of the loved one that’s been lost. A funeral is normally the last time people come together to mourn and honour the person. Is often custom to wear black clothing to show one is mourning. For many African countries this is a time for celebrations, where dancing and singing is key. I read online that this is very common in many funerals in Ghana for example. When a death in the family happens, they come together to sing, dance, eat and drink and instead of wearing black, they show up wearing the most colourful clothes and finest jewellery. Apparently these funerals can often last long into the night. Ghanaians see funerals as a time to celebrate the life the person has live, not as a time to mourn.
I like that thought. So I hereby pledge my wishes for when I die at the age of 74,4:
- Black clothing is forbidden! (except for underwear and socks)
- Those that plan on speaking, have to tell at least one amazing joke!
- I want AC/DCs "Highway to Hell" to be played, yup that's right.
When people die of old age, after having lived a long and exciting life, I think it's important to celebrate that person, not just stand there and sob. Of course I cry at funerals, but I also try to treasure the time I had with those people.
Okay, that was probably the most morbid thing I've ever written on my blog, but it's just something that popped into my head.
Today's song you've probably already guessed.
Today's song: AC/DC - Highway to Hell
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