Author Archives: Emma M. Neish

Comfort in Contact, Solace in Sharing

In New York City, a photographer named Brandon has made a career of photographing people in the streets, recording their story, and posting them together on Facebook. Started in 2010, his Humans of New York Facebook page has since accumulated over 15 million followers and garnered international fame. His candid photographs and either concise or multi-part stories reveal intimate stories to the public, connect individuals all over the world, and create a beautiful network of strangers related only by a common humanity.

Stories portray a range of human experiences- the joys of falling in love, the losses of family members during wars and genocides, the violence in poor neighborhoods, and moments of personal struggle, defeat and successes that will trigger tears in crowded coffeeshops, laughter in silent libraries, and long reflection during the busiest of days. Among the most poignant of stories are the ones revolving around death and dying. One recent post depicts a woman whose spirited smile defies her 86 years of age.

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Although the photographer emphasizes that the fear of death seems to be a human universal, she denies sharing this feeling. Her matter of fact assertion that she does not fear death is attributed to her longing for her husband. Does this woman believe death will reconnect them in the afterlife? Or does the sheer pain of life without him cause her to forsake life itself? Regardless of her reasoning, the yearning for her husband is powerful enough to neutralize a fear so intense it is referred to as “a natural condition of living”,  and readers are left with heart wrenching empathy for this woman’s literally undying love and loss of her husband.

Other stories touch on the spiritual.

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A young woman describes the close relationship she had with her grandfather- a man who deeply valued education. He suffered a major stroke and remained on life support, while his granddaughter went on to college. Her descriptions of the college graduation at his bedside preceeded his death later that night. Whether an eerie coincidence or a divine sign, the news of his granddaughter’s academic successes seemed to provide him with a sense of completion and finality- allowing him to pass from this life to whatever lay ahead.

Stories like these go on for pages. While their faces represent the full range of physical diversity, their words are identical in candor and intimacy. Why are these people so willing to share such tragic, uplifting, and intensely personal moments of their lives with millions of strangers? Is there something inherently palliative about confiding in others? Perhaps the social dialogue revolving around death is a way for us to cope with the dread it invokes. By addressing death, we lessen its power. The thoughts and narratives on platforms like Humans of New York provide vital outlets for survivors to share the burdens of tragedy. By sharing their stories and forming connections, people around the globe are healing from the wounds of mortality.

 

 

 

Disparate Attitudes Towards Death 

             In an article entitled, Endings: A Sociology of Death and Dying, Michael Kearl discusses the statistics behind death. I was shocked to find that the rate of suicide among men aged 85 and older is 155% higher than of the age group aged 15-24. I found this extraordinarily telling of elderly citizens opinions toward death and wondered if the recent increase parallels the development of life sustaining technology. Are these statistics telling us something about American’s desire to die in control? Do they reflect a failing system of geriatric care? Or does it reveal something more profound about the dwindling quality of life as one ages?

             In August of this year, renowned neurologist, researcher and writer Oliver Sacks passed away after being diagnosed with cancer. Upon learning the diagnosis he published an article in the New York Times entitled, My Own Life, where he reflected on his accomplishments and philosophized about the end of his life. He compared his thoughts on death to those of philosopher David Hume who wrote, “It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at present.” Sacks elaborated on Hume’s idea stating, “Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life. On the contrary, I feel intensely alive…” He goes on to detail the life events that brought him joy and reflect on what he has yet to accomplish. Months later, he composed another statement that was published in the Times where he concluded, “And now, weak, short of breath, my once-firm muscles melted away by cancer, I find my thoughts, increasingly, not on the supernatural or spiritual, but on what is meant by living a good and worthwhile life — achieving a sense of peace within oneself. I find my thoughts drifting to the Sabbath, the day of rest, the seventh day of the week, and perhaps the seventh day of one’s life as well, when one can feel that one’s work is done, and one may, in good conscience, rest.”

In light of the courage and genuine contentedness of Sack’s words, I found it difficult then, to understand why elderly suicide statistics are exceedingly high. What could foster such a drastic difference of attitude towards one’s death? Is there a biological explanation why some people desire death to the point of suicide while others publish articles on their deathbed asserting they are not yet finished with life? Could this be an effect of education, economics or religion? Investigating attitudes towards death would educate society about this oftentimes-taboo topic and hopefully allow us to view our own lives as the “enormous privilege and adventure” that Oliver Sacks did.