When Dying Saves Lives — Or Not
The Fragile Path of Personal Evolution in Changing Times
Death feels so permanent, even for the faith filled.
I have been frozen in grief when a loved one died suddenly. I have experienced what it means to linger in the void of certain death because of illness.
When asked which was harder, I have honestly responded that I cannot measure something so profound; both have been the heartbreaking, real-life markers for me of our shared mortality, one not easier than the other. What I learned is that time is my friend and will help me heal.
When death visited my door, my way of coping was as a writer. Sometimes waking in the middle of the night, I would sink into my sorrow, asking it to share the hidden stories of my psyche as my fingers touched my keypad. Eventually, my experiences with death led to writing books about death and dying. In time, I have come to respect the seasons of our lives, made up of natural cycles that move us from this life to a hoped for yet unknowable destination. As I experienced my own shock and grief and yes, even regret in times of grief, I came to see death as both sacred and miraculous. I continue to be amazed, even lost in wonder, at the body’s deep intelligence of knowing when the journey of life was over. There is a movement, a wave, that carries the dying out to sea while we, the family and friends stand on the shoreline helpless witnesses. Regardless of how many friends and/or loved ones we are surrounded by there is a feeling of isolation watching our loved ones depart. Death is a personal experience that must be navigated alone.
As loved ones have died, and when my heart was heavy or burdened by what I have done or what I didn’t do, when my grief would expand until I felt like an over-filled balloon ready to pop into a million shreds, when the weighted void of my loved one’s absence would smother my faith, my only remedy would be to touch my keyboard and allow my fingers the freedom of flight. My body knew what to do as I stepped away from my mental torture. Flying across a familiar keyboard, I wove my grief into a story that helped me make sense of it all, so I could somehow comprehend the enormity of loss I experienced as being inevitable. At other times, I walked in nature or along a shoreline, moving through days that too often felt like an eternal never-ending static existence.
Time became my friend, and I would eventually embrace and accept that all things pass, even grief. That laughing again, finding joy in my life again, believing in the beauty that life has to offer again, was not a guilty pleasure but instead it was the very oxygen that gave life to my purpose and honored the person’s life I had lost.
Loss and Grief of Another Sort
And then my experience with death changed.
It began when I pointed out the emperor’s clothes. I saw what I saw. I remembered how important it was to see what I saw. I experienced the death of friendships, a rejection by family members that felt deathly real, the death of reasonableness, respect, kindness, and cooperation with people I loved. By comparison, I had come to terms with the loss of loved ones knowing that life does end but on the other hand, I have yet to come to terms with the loss of friendships and family members that has been trumped by lies, denial, and brutality. Some ideas or beliefs just need to die, I just never thought that our democracy would or could potentially be one of those ideas. I certainly never expected that extremists would tear my personal world apart. Or that the simple act of protecting each other would be a political debate.
An idea is a beautiful thing until it is weaponized. I feel betrayed by politicians who refuse to acknowledge the truth. It is happening on an unprecedented scale akin to 1936. The false ideas that shape the narrative by both politicians and far right news organizations is growing. The lie is hiding in front of all of us and it is terrifyingly real for those of us who see and understand we are at risk. Americans are being abused by the very people we once believed we could trust. Even dying. The divide is no longer based on policy, it is based on power and control, regardless of how it is being framed by those who care little for us as a people. I know of no other way to navigate through this nightmare other than to call it out for what it is.
Gaslighting is a form of emotional abuse that’s seen in abusive relationships. It’s the act of manipulating a person by forcing them to question their thoughts, memories, and the events occurring around them. A victim of gaslighting can be pushed so far that they question their own sanity. https://www.healthline.com/health/gaslighting#:~:text=Gaslighting%20is%20a%20form%20of,they%20question%20their%20own%20sanity
On January 6, 2021, the United States Capital was attacked by home grown insurrectionists intent on taking over the government. To be denied of what I witnessed in real time is frightening and devastating to my psyche and my sense of reality. Over 600,000 people have died in a pandemic these same “leaders” refer to as “only the flu.” You ask, how am I coping? How are any of us coping?
I cope with my fear by refusing to deny what I know is real. Healing my early life trauma taught me to trust myself, to trust what I see, to recognize abuse and call it out for what it is. It taught me to ask questions over, and over, and over again. I know the earth is flat. I know Elvis is dead.
What is hard to navigate is the massive influence of the lies being told, especially when the acceptance of those lies is believed by the people I love and once trusted. I find I am angry and disgusted by leaders whose very lives were threatened that day but now tell us they were fine. In real time they told us they recognized and even called out the perpetrators but now tell us that they were mistaken, that it was just a tour group, even as they ran for their lives from a mob who would see them dead. The lies feel old, historically, and oddly familiar, as people in power falsify facts and continue to tell us what we see is not happening. Their denial is thick, like rolling lava. Hot and destructive to the reality that we all lived through on that day in January. I don’t know how to grieve the loss I feel today except to take one day at a time.
A dear friend lost her husband after a year of navigating cancer while at the same time navigating COVID. When it became clear that the procedures had failed, she understood and had to accept the greater reality that he would die. As hard as it was to face the truth, she was comforted when she was told by his doctor that she was experiencing something called “anticipatory grief.” As I listen to politicians attempting to shift blame for January 6 with blatantly false narratives, when reporters and elected officials shame the officers who suffered that day, I suffer from their arrogance and ignorance and feel a kind of “anticipatory grief,” unable to feel any certainty that our democracy can survive it all. When I see leaders denying a pandemic as their citizens die, it all feels hopeless.
Our world as we have known it seems to be melting before our eyes under the red hot gaslighting of far-right extremists. I can now clearly see that not everyone believes in our ever-evolving democratic experiment called the United States of America and further recognize that a power-hungry political machine is only interested in holding on to and building their supremacy using gaslighting to light their way. I am searching for ways to grieve for those who follow them, a grief for the death of an ideal that was almost there, a grief for people I once loved and trusted, who now reject me in favor of believing lies and following orders.
So I write. And as I wax and wane between hope and fear with too many unanswered questions, I look for others who see what I see, who believe in the ideals of our Republic, who care about others enough to show compassion, kindness, and respect while at the same time have a willingness to confront the lies. I am looking for that sweet common thread, so I feel less alone.
Perhaps someone out there can answer these questions or at least admit these questions haunt them.
How does a lie meet its death?
How does a person die to a mental belief that is killing them when they believe the lie is saving them?
Do we say and do nothing in the face of a loved one who believes the lie and is willing to fight and destroy our way of life to keep the lie going?
If you do ask the same questions, please know you are not alone. There are so many of us who just need to know you are there.
Candace George Conradi is a published author of inspirational books, articles, and poetry. She is a practitioner of Human Design, a system that offers its users a way to navigate and make decisions in life that support their unique path. As a Human Design certified Living Your Design guide, she helps others map out a clear path for living life authentically and without guilt. You can visit her page at www.lydlifemap.com or her author page at www.candaceconradi.com. For questions, please email her at candaceconradi@gmail.com.