Death, Where is Thy Sting?

For roughly all of us, death is the great terror. But, like roughly everything else, it is probably not at all what it seems. Dr. Paul Wong discovered, in his own studies as a psychologist in the 1980s, that most of the elderly he interviewed “were prepared to die and actually welcomed it.” Death after a long life is not a sad thing, much less a tragedy. One gets bored; eventually, one wants to move on.

This is borne out again by a book I recently fished out of a remainder bin: Laura Ward's Famous Last Words (London, PRC: 2004). It is, largely, a collection of the last words of various famous people.

Almost none seem to express panic or fear. The three clear exceptions are Queen Elizabeth I, who offered everything she owned for one more moment; her father Henry VIII, who died lamenting “all is lost—empire, body, soul”; and Josef Stalin, who went out in great agony and terror, according to his daughter. Those who know the lives of these three, however, would probably not be particularly suprised to know they left with visions of hellfire.

Many go out with a wisecrack instead. Bob Hope, asked on his deathbed where he'd like to be buried, whispered, “Surprise me.” Allan Ginsberg just wheezed “Toodle-oo.”

Many others testify to the rest of us that there is nothing especially unpleasant about the whole thing. The dying author Stephen Crane advises, “When you come to the hedge that we all must get over, it isn't so bad. You feel sleepy, you don't care. Just a little dreamy anxiety, which world you're really in, that's all.” Gerard Manley Hopkins, poet, Jesuit, and author of the famous “Terrible Sonnets” that plumb the depths of spiritual suffering, said simply, “I am so happy, so happy.” Ethel Barrymore, the actress, said almost the same thing. Raphael, only the one word, “happy.” English painter William Etty: “Wonderful, wonderful, this death!” Dr. William Hunter, art collector: “If I had strength to hold a pen, I would write down how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die.” Maria Mitchell, professor of astronomy: “well, if this is dying, there is nothing unpleasant about it.”

Perhaps surprisingly, even convicted felons going to the gallows or the electric chair seem usually in a rather good mood. But why not? If they have done wrong, they have also paid the final penalty. Perhaps by this their slates are wiped clean.

Perhaps all dying people should be issued with a tape recorder in order to leave their advice for the rest of us. What could be of greater ultimate value?