DEATH LANGUAGE [R, 5-1-25] [Happy May Day!]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Musings of An Old Man—DEATH LANGUAGE [R, 5-1-25] [Happy May Day!]

 

When Bob Butts and I would talk about death in his last years, he always said, “I don’t want people to say I passed on, or that I went to my reward, that sort of crap. Just say, ‘He dead.’”

I preached at his funeral. I thought about getting up and saying “He dead,” and sitting down. He would love that. But I had donned my white pulpit robe, and it seemed like a lot of work for just “He dead.”

Especially in sacred and romantic and generally emotional times and places, we are tempted to go beyond plain language. That’s not all bad. Most of the time, though, even in moments of great poignancy, I suspect that simple language may carry the greatest meaning.

Most of us don’t feel comfortable with expressing deep emotions. Especially about death. Death is so final, and so distressing, if we cared about the deceased. Also, it reminds us that we ourselves are going to die someday, and that can be scary. So, we use euphemisms. We rest in peace, or meet our maker, or pass away. They don’t sound quite so final.

We are usually leery of talking about bodily functions, too. We don’t do it unless accompanied by uncomfortable laughter. So, again, euphemisms. The ultimate toilet euphemism was when our girls were small. There was a character in a book or TV show…can’t quite remember which…who always referred to the outhouse as “the euphemism,” as in, “I have to go to the euphemism.”

When I was doing a year of chemotherapy, before the creation of the effective anti-nausea drugs, I learned so many euphemisms for vomiting. Barfing. Tossing cookies. Heaving. My favorite was calling Ralph on the big white phone. [1]

But this column is about death language, not bodily function euphemisms, so we need to return to gravestone epithets, like I Told You I Was Sick, and last words, like If everyone is here with me, why is the light on in the kitchen?

What do you want on your gravestone? What is the last thing you want to say to your loved ones? Maybe you should write them down, just to be sure.

I’m not going to have a gravestone, but if I did, it probably should say I’ve told you this before, but…

For last words, I think I’ll look at my loved ones and just say, “Thank you.”

John Robert McFarland

1] When my father’s youngest brother, born in 1914, was in school, a kid announced that he had thrown up. The prim and proper school marm said, “Now, children what is the proper word.” Uncle Mike responded “I woulda said puke.”