The Practice of Dying

I’m not a palliative care worker, but I have been present with several friends and loved ones as they were passing, and each time I felt profoundly moved and inspired by the courage and wisdom I witnessed in their deaths. It was a great gift; personally, it was a true opportunity for me. In fact, in each case, the person who was leaving really taught me how to support them, and I simply followed their lead. I have one experience in particular that may be useful to share.

Many years ago, when he was in his early forties, a dear friend and member of our spiritual community, Roy, discovered he had advanced lung cancer. Roy was a Japanese businessman, a black belt in karate, very capable and beautiful. He had a loving wife, a daughter, and a baby on the way. He met the bad news with such dignity and always said, “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.” He was something of a micromanager. In fact, he kept a clipboard by his bed and tended to his body, medication, and diet with precision. He was also a dedicated meditator and had deep faith.

When his condition began to decline, I moved to be near him and had the great honor of spending all my afternoons with him in the last month of his life. He had been the president and an important administrator of our spiritual organization, Mangala Shri Bhuti. So each afternoon, we would talk about the logistics concerning the future of the organization and the activities of our teacher, Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche. He shared his vision for how to support others and gave me much counsel. He cared deeply for others and had little concern for himself.

After about thirty minutes of discussion, he would say, “Okay, now let’s do the practice of dying.” What this meant was that we would sit quietly for about thirty to forty minutes and let everything go as if we were leaving this world.
I’ve heard that the Dalai Lama does this practice four times a day. Once I saw him do it in a video. It reminded me of Roy. Doing this every day for a month was precious; a time to step back from the world, since we are so often caught up in experiencing the fleeting nature of this human life.
It was poignant each and every time, but as his time drew closer, it began to feel even more powerful and full.

According to Tibetan Buddhist tradition, when someone dies, there are rituals and prayers that loved ones recite to support the transition for the individual and to help those left behind process the loss and remember the impermanence of life. We often place blessed objects on the physical body. One day, as his body was beginning to fail, Roy said, “Okay, let’s really do this.” I understood that he meant, “This is not just a practice anymore; do this as if you are actually dying without holding back.”

That day, he removed his shirt and placed the objects on his body so I would know exactly what to do at the moment of his death. It was very intimate because Roy, being Japanese, was somewhat formal, and we had a relationship that felt like brother and sister. This was the first time I saw him let go of that level of formality. That day, the practice of dying felt like a complete letting go. It was palpable, and I could literally feel us both “dying”; letting go; and I realized he was ready. This was also the day he finally put down his clipboard and stopped directing everyone.

In the last days of his life, he slowly withdrew, as if he were halfway there already. I had great trust in him. Everything felt so natural, immediate, and alive. People often describe being near someone who is leaving in this way. When someone’s friends and loved ones are willing to be present and also feel the poignancy of this special time, it is truly sacred. I think it’s surprising because we all have so much fear around death. But many people who work in hospitals and with people who have terminal illnesses, including my mother who did this work for many years, describe how people at the end of their lives often find a peace, meaning, and freedom they never experienced before in their lives. Everything strange and unimportant just falls away.

I don’t think there is a formula for what you should do in this situation. Each person and circumstance is different. But paying attention and remaining present is fundamental and will determine how you respond. All kinds of creative ideas will arise if you do this. Perhaps your friend makes a request. Perhaps they want to contact someone before they die, or resolve something that is unfinished. Perhaps they want to reveal something or share a story. Perhaps you feel the need to offer a prayer, which might be a formal prayer connected to a particular tradition or simply a deep aspiration from your heart, or simply to sit in silence with that person. Sometimes you might want to spend time quietly with yourself, or give your friend some space. Just observe and respond.

I would also like to recommend a beautiful and extremely popular book I read called Being Mortal by Atul Gawande, which discusses the decisions various people have made about how they want to live the last part of their lives and how they would like to die. It is, by the way, a really good read; I couldn’t put it down and read it in two days.

Naturally, we never know when we will die, and so it is important that all of us find a way to let go in our daily lives. This is why meditation is so important. I think if you know how to live, dying is natural.

And I think being near someone who is dying requires that you really look at your own state of mind and teaches you much about your own process.
If you do this, you will know how to respond.

Originally published at Mangala Shri Bhuti