Dealing with Death

The subject of death has come up in the past few days from various sources, and, I thought it might be a good idea to share some of my thoughts on it.

The first of which, is very positively uplifting and re-framing, and, the other, is a funny story.

So first, I was talking to a student of mine, and he mentioned that he had a celebration of life to attend.  And I thought to myself, "wow, that is such a great way of putting it."

Its amazing, the power that words have over us.

Just think in your head "celebration of life" vs "funeral".  Yikes!

I see one as laughing, telling stories, remembering the good days, some tears certainly, but mostly just good, happy stories.  I see the other as drab, everyone wearing black, crying in the rain as a coffin is lowered into the ground and someone breaks down and falls to the ground sobbing.

For me, personally, I'd want the celebration when I pass.

So, that's a frame of reference I thought I'd share.

The second, I was inspired to write after reading this PETA article, "Don't flush the finned ones" in which they talk about helping children deal with death, and, I was reminded of my first fish, Roger.

Now, Roger and I were only together a short time.  A very short time.

See, my crazy not-actually-an-uncle-but-we-called-him-that asked me if I wanted to go catch a fish.
(don't get ahead of me, now)
and I said yeah!  I'd love to CATCH a fish.  As in catch to keep.  Catch to have a pet.  Catch to... I don't know, hold and observe or something!

And, although I was quite young, I distinctly remember thinking how strange it was that the hook wouldn't hurt the fish, and imagining how they must have very strong pallets (although I'm guessing I didn't know the word for pallet) and that it would come out like a clothes hanger catching a keyring.

I was going to name him Roger.  Roger the Salmon.

Anyway, it was fairly traumatic when I caught the fellow, reeled him into the boat, welcomed him to the family, and my uncle proceeded to beat him to death with a hammer on the floor of the boat.

As traumatic as it was, I have to recognize the humor of the situation from all angles.  Where would I be keeping this Salmon?  How would we keep it alive on the row back to the house?  Why would the uncle (who had shot all sorts of things in the time I'd stay there) be any different towards fish?

Questions like these just don't occur to a young child - they fall under the "adults deal with these sorts of things" category.  All I knew was that I was getting a pet fish.

Poor Roger.

Sensei Ono, Shinka Martial Arts
Author of The Key to Awesome