Why Is It So Difficult to Talk About Death?
It is strange, the only certainty in life is death, and we seem completely unable to chat about it
This essay merges two of the exclusive KTHT Substack prompts for the writers/paid subscribers.
Write about:
A time you had to confront your own mortality.
A reflection on the things we don't talk about in polite society.
It’s important to express what’s going on in your head to help process ideas, and can also liberate you from fears or anxieties. With that in mind, I recently reflected over the last few years and one theme emerged — Death!
In the early summer of 2023, my partner went into hospital for a life-saving operation. Praying for his recovery, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own mortality, and wasn’t keen at all on how this felt.
While accelerating at speed through my fifties, I’ve realised that I dislike being viewed as an older, maybe vulnerable person. I’ve always looked a little younger than I am, blessed with a clear complexion, not to mention health has been on my side — so I thought I could forget about ageing. Not pay any attention to it, and perhaps it wouldn’t happen to me. But of course, my periods stopped, which lessened my sense of being a woman. Or should I say, I reflected on the fact that even though I don’t want any more children; I was no longer fertile because of age, and in my eyes, this diminished my vitality.
People write about embracing this new season of life, but being perfectly honest, I wasn’t feeling any love for it. Others appeared to look at me differently. Or was that my imagination? Perhaps I should just come right out and admit it — I viewed myself in a different light.
While my partner lay in the hospital waiting for an operation, I feared he was going to die, and that I was also in the last phase of my life.
I chatted to a friend of mine who nearly died when she was only forty. They have had a positive perspective on ageing and life in general ever since. At a recent family event she’d expressed the idea of looking forward to enjoying the next twenty summers, mentioning she would consider herself fortunate to extend her life into her late 70s. However, the rest of the family, apart from her son who she’s close to, told her she was being morbid. When she meant it as a positive conversation.
It is strange, the only certainty in life is death, and we seem completely unable to chat about it.
Although I’ll admit when my friend told me about this, it kind of frightened me too. I have known this woman since I was 14. How did I suddenly get to being four times that age?
Worried about my partner, I did a lot of walking by myself during the long summer evenings. Walking and crying. I had nothing else to do. It was then I admitted — death scares me, and I prayed to anyone who was —
out there,
up there,
around us,
inside us… for my partner to come home as healthy as he could.
My prayers were answered. Although, he’ll never be the person he was last year or the year before. Plus, there’s been a lot of adjustments we have both needed to make.
I think it must be quite terrifying for my partner to know something the doctors have done is the only reason he is still alive. Heart beating. The consultant behaved like a God, giving future life to him.
When my mum turned sixty, I remember her telling me she still felt as if she was only thirty years old, and being young at the time I just smiled sweetly, and didn’t think a lot about it. Now I really appreciate what she meant. If you’re relatively fit, it’s easy to feel the same as you did many years previously on the inside — but of course, no matter how healthy you are, you don’t look the same on the outside.
That’s quite a difficult concept to get your head around and come to terms with.
My mum’s always been an inspiration to me in life and death. She never doubted me. She loved me. Didn’t judge me. And was always emotionally available.
I missed her dreadfully after she died, and still do. I know she watches over me, and I’m aware of her presence in times of need. When I was struggling to come to terms with what was going on regarding my partner’s health, she walked by my side, and held out a tissue — so I could dry my eyes.
The negative thoughts I clung to regarding ageing shrouded my mood as 2023 came to a close. Wondering what the future held, or indeed how many years remain, a shadow loomed, counting down... It seemed as if I was losing my mind. A voice in my head screamed, ‘I don’t want to die’.
On New Year’s Eve, my partner and I argued and I was left sitting alone. Thinking. Dreading the coming year. Getting older and the scare of what had happened to him weighing down on my final thoughts of 2023.
Later, when I went to bed, I had a dream. And just writing this fills me with emotion.
The dream was very vivid. I was in a room with my mum, and her mum — my gran. The three of us were chatting happily, busy doing different things, love filled the air. Their presence was startlingly realistic. I occasionally find my dreams give a sense of having travelled back in time. This was one of those. I adored being with them again — the people who brought me up and shared their values. In the dream, those two amazing women reassured me that when my time comes, they’ll be there waiting.
When I awoke, I felt free and love surrounded me. The fear of death seemed to fade somewhat. I almost longed for the moment to be with them again, but luckily it is not my time… yet. And so I will be sure to grab the privilege of life with both hands until it is.
I will admit I am still a little scared of death and wish it was more of an accepted topic to talk about, but now a calmness has taken the edge off my fear. Even so, I DO NOT want to find the grim reaper waiting around the corner!
If you enjoyed my essay, you also like this from
"People write about embracing this new season of life, but being perfectly honest, I wasn’t feeling any love for it."
It IS hard to embrace it...especially in your 50s. But I'm turning 70 this autumn, and I'm finally embracing this stage. I view myself as a crone. Not in the fairy tale definition - as in hag, often evil. But in the archetypal sense. First, as women, we're maidens, then we're mothers, then we're crones. As in wise elders willing to guide those younger.
Totally understand and appreciate, May how if we are blessed and live long enough there comes a point where we will reconcile our feelings and what we know with our mortality.
I think culture plays a big part in why in some situations talking about death is considered taboo. I read somewhere cultures whose relationship with time is linear, see death as a final step/ frontier as opposed to cultures that consider time as circular and honour ancestors in many ways as your dream. These cultures see death as an evolution and I understand talk more openly about death.