What do you say when someone dies? I don’t know about you, but I’ve never really learned how to talk about death. How to think about it. What to say to someone who’s recently bereaved? Just think about the language we do use. “Passed on.” “In a better place.” “Laid to eternal rest.” How about just “died”? The discomfort runs deep. Money doesn’t lie. And our aversion to death, especially in the United States, is big business. We pay for the body to be transported, embalmed, gussied up, and cremated, or perhaps buried in expensive caskets.
This is from Maria Konnikova, “How to Be Better at Death,” Freakonomics, February 3, 2021. It’s fascinating and informative throughout.
Parts of the interview reminded me of a book I read when I was about 17, a book titled Death, Here is Thy Sting. The sting was the high price of a casket, embalming, etc.
I chose to highlight the above passage because it relates to something I’ve followed. I never say that someone “passed” or “passed away.” It’s euphemistic and occasionally misleading. At pickleball a few months ago I was talking about my daughter having passed something or other. Someone who came in on the tail end and heard me saying that my daughter passed expressed her condolences. I quickly explained what I was saying.
I say what’s true: the person died. I got practice early on. My mother, who died of cancer on December 19, 1969, was bedridden at home from about mid-October on. (Actually, she spent her last 4 days in the hospital, connected to a bunch of tubes.) In early December, she dictated her obituary to either my sister or my brother. When she died, I called the Winnipeg Free Press to read the obituary over the phone. Here are two parts of the conversation:
David: On December 19, Norah Mary Henderson died.
Free Press: Uh, excuse me, what was that?
David: On December 19, Norah Mary Henderson died.
Free Press: Don’t you mean “passed away?”
David: No, I mean “died.”
Later, when I got to what would happen to her body, the conversation went as follows:
David: Her body will be donated to the University of Manitoba medical school.
Free Press: Don’t you mean “her remains?”
David: No, I mean “her body.”
The Free Press person writing it down was clearly uncomfortable. But they played it straight. I knew that if they didn’t, my mum (that’s the Canadian version of “mom”) would have been pissed off.
In December 2018, when I visited a funeral home in Toronto hours after discovering that my sister had died, I cut to the chase by saying to the employee: “I’m very sentimental about my sister; I have zero sentiment about a dead body.” I then went on to say that I wanted the cheapest cremation I could get.
READER COMMENTS
Jon Murphy
Feb 6 2021 at 9:47pm
Death has always been a weird thing in Mankind. Religions and cultures from Ancient Egypt to modernity speak of death primarily euphemistically. We have these massive graveyards dedicated to death and the dead. We surround them with walls to protect them (although, some legends say the walls around the cemetery are more about keeping things in then keeping people out). It’s a fascinating thing.
Greg G
Feb 7 2021 at 7:57am
I agree Jon. I am a non-believer. I don’t know what David’s beliefs are but I get the sense from the post that, like most people, he didn’t find that other people projecting their beliefs onto him was helpful.
I find most things in religion to be a preposterous challenge to my intuitions. But seeing the dead body of a loved one is surely the biggest challenge to the intuitions of a non-believer who thinks death is the end of consciousness. You get such a powerful feeling that the body is not the essence of the person and that something that had been there and is gone must be somewhere else now.
Lawrence
Feb 8 2021 at 10:24am
I know many people with religious faith that do not use euphemisms to communicate. The idea that euphemisms somehow “soften the blow” is, of course, absurd as David points out. And nobody is fooled unless they want to be. In fact, I think that the use of euphemisms tells more about the speaker than the deceased. It tells us that “I want to be seen as a benign person, and I don’t want to directly address issues that cause me pain. And I project my need to protect myself onto others.” In other words, it’s an exercise in a strange form of approval-seeking or even narcissism.
Greg G
Feb 7 2021 at 7:45am
You provide a valuable service by raising this issue David. Almost 25 years ago I took the training to be a Hospice volunteer and later the training to facilitate a grieving support group. Before those trainings I had no idea how relate to grieving people but after listening to them for many years I can offer a few ideas that might be useful to some people.
It’s not really about what you say. It’s about showing up and continuing to be a friend to the living while showing respect for the dead. Silence is OK. It is almost always OK to relate a fond memory of the deceased.
There are definitely things NOT to say. Never say “I know exactly how you feel.” If you did know you would know not to say that. Grief is very isolating and it make people feel that no one knows how they feel. It might, at some point be appropriate to tell how you felt when you suffered a comparable loss. They will decide, without being told, how much your feelings were similar. (They probably were.) Don’t say, “He’s in a better place now.” The bereaved usually doesn’t think things are better. Never suggest their grieving process is taking too long. Attempts to speed it up are almost always counterproductive. This is not the time to project your own spiritual beliefs onto the bereaved. They will tell you how they feel about those issues if they want to.
The grieving process takes a lot longer than people think. Years later it’s only been a few Christmases and birthdays and special occasions without the deceased. These anniversaries are often keenly felt and are good times to reach out to the bereaved who often feel very alone then.
Everybody shows up for the funereal. Don’t forget to show up for the bereaved after everyone else has moved on. Don’t judge their emotions which will sometimes surprise both you and them.
Fred
Feb 8 2021 at 10:17am
The bereaved don’t need to be talked to; they want to be listened to. Sit down quietly, be receptive, and give them a chance. If they don’t say anything, that’s ok too. Give them your time and your ear.
Lawrence
Feb 8 2021 at 10:26am
Thank you, David, for addressing this topic so succinctly. I’ve always been embarrassed by euphemism. Just thinking about them makes my skin crawl in a creepy way. The idea that euphemisms somehow “soften the blow” is, of course, absurd as David points out. And nobody is fooled unless they want to be. In fact, I think that the use of euphemisms tells more about the speaker than the deceased. It tells us that “I want to be seen as a benign person, and I don’t want to directly address issues that cause me or you pain. And I project my need to protect myself onto others.” In other words, it’s an exercise in a strange form of approval-seeking or even narcissism.
Steve Sz
Feb 8 2021 at 7:37pm
As writers, we should closely monitor our work for euphemisms, catchphrases, labels, cliches, cant and jargon. At the same time, we should be ready to forgive these sins in others. Spoken language occurs unrehearsed, in unexpected circumstances, amid people we may or may not know or understand, often in circumstances of high emotion.
The euphemisms of death are often condemned as hypocrisy. Yet they may be not so much an effort evade reality, as an effort to manage an uncertain emotional environment, to erect gentle bumpers around the discourse of death, and make it easier to restore the habits of everyday life.
It is adolescent vanity to insist on the right to speak of biological realities like death, elimination and sex in the starkest possible terms in all companies – as if you alone were brave enough to face the truth, and the rest of us were too timid to admit that bodies corrupt, waste stinks, and sexual desire throbs beneath the calm surface of conventional manners.
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