The art of dying well

Retired Salvation Army officer Major Ian Kilgour isn’t letting the grass grow under his feet. A stay in hospital prompted him to develop a book that invites those nearing the end of their lives to face death with
courage, peace and hope.

Ian, now 71 and six years into retirement, jokes that wife Shirley always wanted him to get a back shed for when he stopped work. ‘She somehow has this romantic notion about “a man having a shed”,’ he laughs, ‘but it would be a pointless exercise, because I’ve got nothing to put in it!’

Instead, over the past six years, Ian has been happy to continue with his Christian ministry, serving with Shirley as an associate minister at their local Presbyterian Church, St Heliers. He’s also kept busy chairing a joint Salvation Army and Presbyterian project looking at the plight of health care workers in the aged care industry. Alongside all that, Ian enjoys spending time with his nine grandchildren.

‘I sometimes find myself a little bit overcommitted, and you realise you don’t have quite the same energy or recovery from one event after another, but apart from that—which just goes with the territory of growing old—all is good.’

Ian has just written a 75-page book entitled The Art of Dying Well. He confesses some degree of self-interest in the subject matter, with the book’s genesis coming when Ian was hospitalised with a heart issue and feeling ‘somewhat threatened’ by the possibility of his own death. ‘But I was also in a ward with other men and found it an intriguing and lovely experience to hear their stories and get to know something of them and their lives. I thought to myself, “I’m only going to be here with them for such a short time, but what if I could produce something that could help them and others like them approach death in a more positive way?” ’

This connected with a request from a chaplain at his church who serves in hospitals and rest homes and was looking for some sort of resource to help people facing their last days with a terminal diagnosis or simply because of old age. Ian observes, ‘There’s a lot of material for someone who has been bereaved, but not so much for people facing their own mortality.’

And so Ian started putting his own thoughts on paper.

Let’s talk about death

What he’s produced is a simple book that opens by encouraging people to take a trip down memory lane—recalling the major events and people in their lives, along with places where they’ve lived, visited and worked. ‘The intention is to help people remember and, by remembering, realise their life has added up to a great deal of living. They can then gain a sense of completion and thanksgiving for all that has made up their journey,’ Ian explains.

The middle section of the book presents a spiritual understanding on death and dying, with the concluding section offering a collection of inspirational readings. At the start of the book, Ian also includes a suggested list of final wishes to communicate to family before dying.

Ian includes readings and thoughts from faiths other than Christianity. ‘This was deliberate, recognising that when chaplains and others visiting hospitals and rest homes go about their duties, they’re meeting people from all sorts of backgrounds—ethnically and religiously. So there is no reason to make it exclusive to a Christian understanding and every reason to make it inclusive. It’s also important to honour the fact that the person receiving it has had their own journey in life, according to their own faith tradition or values.’

The Art of Dying Well can be given to a person who is approaching death to read on their own, but those who are already using it say it’s also opening up ongoing discussions. When they return to visit someone, that person will often point them to something that caught their eye and was meaningful. This then gives the opportunity to further discuss their death and dying. It’s a ‘read and share’ approach to what can sometimes be difficult conversations to hold.

‘Because they’re talking about something a person has read, it doesn’t seem so intrusive,’ Ian suggests. ‘It gets away from all of that awkwardness. Families can read to a family member who is old or ill, asking them some of the questions in the book. It’s a way of indirectly talking about the reality that a person is dying, yet gets around the awkwardness of trying to have that conversation more directly.’

Getting past denial

Ian enjoys thinking deeply and compassionately about lots of issues, so it’s not surprising he’s considered why many of us are reluctant to discuss death—even with those we know are dying. Even when we know we’re dying.

‘Woody Allen said he didn’t mind the thought of dying, but he doesn’t want to be there when it happens! I think most people choose not to think about death, preferring to live in denial of the certain reality of our demise. Even when we’re talking to people who we know are dying, we’re still likely to say, “Don’t worry Mum, you’ll be home soon.” We try to avoid the word “death”, so people “expire” or “pass away”. In news reports of war deaths, terms like “collateral damage” desensitise us to the reality that real people have died.’

Something that Ian believes contributes to people’s denial of death is fear. ‘We shelter our children from death, from the indignity or pain that can be experienced towards the end. We don’t express our feelings and fears with dying people, and so they don’t share theirs with us. Mother Teresa said, “Death is part of the achievement of life.” This underlines the notion that the way to die well, is to live well. Yet death is often seen as a failure, especially in the medical context.’

Ian believes the debate about euthanasia that’s going on in New Zealand is an opportunity for people to talk more openly about their fears and expectations around death and dying. ‘It might sound outrageous, but in many ways death can be quite beautiful—especially when faith is part of our experience. That’s because faith, as an essential component in our preparation for death, takes us beyond our preoccupation with just the suffering or demise of the body. We need to focus on our “true self”, which is formless and which lives on.’

He points to the contributions of the hospice and palliative care movements, which have made such inroads in managing people’s pain and bodily needs, as well as addressing people’s fear of isolation at the end of life. ‘That releases us to contemplate more positively what’s happening to us—especially when we’re aided by people with a compassionate understanding of the issues. Maybe it’s overstating this to talk about “a beautiful death”, but it can bring about a “good death” that gives an individual a sense of completion and peace.’

A way of hope

And, as Ian says, if there is a faith component for a person, there’s also hope at the end.

‘I think of when Jesus ascended back to Heaven,’ he says. ‘The interesting thing about this story is that Jesus’ disciples were staring up into the sky after he had gone and the angel says, “Why are you looking up at the sky?” The inference is: get on with it! And the account in Luke tells us they did this ‘with great joy’. There were no tears. They now had a different understanding of what life after death was like.

‘It was the same at the tomb after Jesus’ resurrection. The angel says, “Jesus isn’t here—he’s gone before you.” When we can really embrace and comprehend that Jesus has already gone before us, we can accept the fact that we’re going to die. But in the meantime, we get on with God’s mission for the church—and indeed for the world.’

Ian describes a YouTube video he’s just seen of a 92-year-old man knitting beanies for the homeless. ‘Here he is, lying in bed at 92 years of age—and he still believes he can do something of value for others. He’s knitted over 8000 beanies for homeless people, including a Salvation Army shelter. And I thought to myself, “How wonderful, here is a man who’s going to keep giving to the wellbeing of others right to the very last!” ’

Making peace with the past

Of course, as people follow the prompts in Ian’s book, calling to mind the people and events of their lives, it’s likely they’ll revisit moments of regret, disappointment and even shame and guilt. So, how is a person at the end of their life to respond to the thoughts and feelings associated with such memories?

Ian recounts a story he says he’s told many times of a young man picking up pieces of broken glass from the seashore. An old man is watching and asks the younger man what he plans to do with the glass he has gathered. He is taken to a small workshop, where the younger man shows him a beautiful stained-glass window that he is making from the broken pieces.

Ian picks up the story: ‘Now, these bits left on the shore could be sharp and dangerous, but gathered up and put into the hands of a craftsman, they’re being made into something of great beauty. And that’s the redemptive actions of God in our life: picking up all those pieces, some of which are jagged and sharp, some of which we feel guilty about or wish had never happened. But if we hand them over to God, something remarkable can be done with them.’

It’s an experience he can relate to. ‘Down through the years, I haven’t always been the person I should be. I have failed. But when I reflect on those points of failure, they’ve been turned around when I’ve allowed God to work. We need to be challenged about many things—especially our failings—if we’re to become who we’re meant to become. But we also need to remember that God loves us, warts and all!’

• To request a copy of Ian's book, email Salvationist Resources or buy from Philip Garside Publishing (print, PDF, Kindle or ePub or PDF)

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by Christina Tyson (c) 'War Cry' magazine, 29 July 2017, pp6-9
You can read 'War Cry' at your nearest Salvation Army church or centre, or subscribe through Salvationist Resources.