A hard task, dying, when one loves life so much.
A Very Easy Death, by Simone de Beauvoir, is a beautifully written, powerfully emotional account of her mother’s death and her own emotional journey through her mother’s illness and death.
At age 78, her mother fell and broke the top part of her femur. She was hospitalized and during examination, the doctors found that she had cancer. It was a highly aggressive sarcoma, and her illness and decline were rapid. Simone and her sister, Poupette, spent most of their time at the hospital with their mother throughout that time, and Poupette was there the night she died.
This is a story that so many of us have gone through with a parent or loved one. Because the journey through illness and decline is a familiar one, I was acutely aware and appreciative of the honesty with which de Beauvoir shared their story — the story of two daughters in the process of losing their mother, and of their mother’s struggle to LIVE while dying.
Before reading the book, I thought that the term “an easy death” meant that the person didn’t have to suffer very much before dying. My family used that term about my father’s passing. He didn’t suffer long with his illness, and we were so grateful for that. But that is not what de Beauvoir meant by “an easy death.” On the contrary, her mother suffered terribly before she died, but she had her daughters with her throughout the decline, and they helped her, advocated for her, and shared courage together in facing the inevitable. That was a luxury that de Beauvoir felt many people don’t have at the end of their lives.
With regard to Maman we were above all guilty, these last years, of carelessness, omission and abstention. We felt that we atoned for this by the days that we gave up to her, by the peace that our being there gave her, and by the victories gained over fear and pain. Without our obstinate watchfulness she would have suffered far more.
She and her sister were with her mother constantly during her illness, so de Beauvoir also describes the very painful reality a loved one faces in going through the agony of cancer.
…In this race between pain and death we most earnestly hoped that death would come first.
…Friday passed uneventfully. On Saturday Maman slept all the time. ‘That’s splendid,’ said Poupette to her. ‘You have rested.’ ‘Today I have not lived,’ sighed Maman.
…Nothing on earth could possibly justify these moments of pointless torment.
And she poignantly details the final aloneness of death.
…The misfortune is that although everyone must come to this, each experiences the adventure in solitude. We never left Maman during those last days which she confused with convalescence and yet we were profoundly separated from her.
All the way through this book, I thought of my own mother. Simone de Beauvoir’s mother was 78 when she died, which seems so young to me from my vantage point now. I am incredibly fortunate to still have my mother who is 98 years old and still very much alive and well! But she and I are also very aware that time is getting short, which gives a special aura to every conversation, every visit, every moment we share. She and I talk about the end quite often, and our shared hope is that it is quick and painless. I live 800 miles away from my mother, so I know it is possible I won’t be with her when that time comes, to help ease her final journey, and that is hard for me.
Nothing prepares any of us for death. Even if fighting a terminal illness, Simone de Beauvoir said: “A hard task, dying, when one loves life so much.” Her mother clung tenaciously to life:
What touched our hearts that day was the way she noticed the slightest agreeable sensation: it was as though, at the age of seventy-eight, she were waking afresh to the miracle of living.
And on the finality of death itself, de Beauvoir said:
There is no such thing as a natural death: nothing that happens to a man is ever natural, since his presence calls the world into question. All men must die: but for every man his death is an accident and, even if he knows it and consents to it, an unjustifiable violation.
Simone de Beauvoir was a gifted author and influential existential philosopher. This was the first book I read by her, but I am very anxious now to read more of her work. I was so impressed with the beauty of her writing and with her deeply thoughtful honesty. With this book, she has touched my heart and mind like no other author has done in a long time.
This was a book that was on my list of 50 books to read for The Classics Club, and was also on my TBR Pile Challenge list.
What a beautiful picture you posted at the end! Yes, coming to grips with family who are leaving this life is very, very hard and yet, sometimes it is not so bad when life means suffering or being ‘not themselves’. My philosophy was to tell each of them that I loved them as a last word every time I left them. Every single time. For each of the 3 family members that I’ve lost (mother, father, sister), it was the last thing I said to them. I was grateful for that. And plan for that time, talk about that time and prepare, and then enjoy life with them. Look for the small joys that appear even among the storm clouds. Those are the things you remember afterwards. I’m so glad that you have your Mom, Robin. I know you treasure your talks with her, though she lives far away. Hugs!
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Thank you, Kay, for your beautifully said wise words. I share your philosophy about letting your loved ones know they are loved every single time you part. And I find joy in my daily conversations with my mom. We laugh and share from the books we are reading, and talk about the weather, and talk over the day’s happenings. We feel closer than the 800 miles between us.
Gosh, I didn’t know you lived that far from your mother. Have you said if she is in some kind of assisted living now? I was so young when my mother died. She wasn’t conscious much for the last two weeks.
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Nan, Mom is still living in a retirement community but not in assisted living. My brother and sister-in-law live just 5 minutes away, and they are a wonderful help to her so she can remain as independent as possible. I’m so sorry you lost your mother at such a young age. Wouldn’t she have found so much joy in your children and those beautiful grandchildren!