The text of the tag on my page about "A Good Death"

A Good Death - As a romantic teen-ager when I first read Dylan Thomas’ poem I knew what a good death was. It was when you succumbed after a long and arduous struggle, usually for love.

But, in 1999 I learned truly the meaning of a good death - this was the year I lost my Uncle Chuck, my Granddad Mote and Eddie’s father, Dennis. All three died at home, which is where I want to die, and all three died with their loved ones near. But, I knew that my uncle had raged against the light far longer than he should have. And while I know that Aunt Barbara needed him to hold on, I also know the pain that a lingering and suffering death brought.

When it came time for my grandfather’s death, just a few short weeks later - he chose to not rage, he chose to go when he was asked - and he saw the angels who came for him. He pointed them out to my mother and was greatly comforted by them.

Dennis died in a similar space as my grandfather, with Lorraine and one of his brothers present, at home, with Paulie and Eddie together in Santa Cruz. I don’t know if he saw angels, and I don’t know why he didn’t wait until Eddie and Paulie were there - but I know that Lorraine considers it to have been a good death

She and I had the opportunity to talk about it just a few weeks ago - and she has taken a long time to see the lesson in who was there at the time. She know knows that Albert had to be there, perhaps so she wasn’t alone. And the wake we had afterwards with Paulie, Cleaver, Eddie, Jim and Kathy Took and me was just what she needed.

After that year, I knew what I wanted in death - I want to have lived a long and happy life and I want to be surrounded by those I love when I go. I want the comforting prayers of an Orthodox priest to be prayed for me, and I want to go at home.
And, I know what I want afterwards - I want to be buried in an Orthodox funeral, in a simple pine box and buried - perhaps at the church’s graveyard, God Willing.

And, then, in the summer of 2003, God gave me the greatest blessing of all. The blessing to be with my Grandmother Mote as she died. Those moments of recognition before her death (after a week of being in a coma) and holding her hand and the hand of my mom, feeling the warmth and peace in the room. I know I’ve seen a Good Death.

I find it sad that Dylan Thomas didn’t get to experience a good death with his father, and pray that he did for himself and his beloved Caitlin.

May all whose deaths have taught me be granted Memory Eternal.