Last month, my sister Fiona passed away unexpectedly. She had been battling cancer for several years, going through cycles of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Each time the cancer reappeared in a new part of her body, the doctors managed to fight it back.
The last appearance of the cancer was in her brain, which upset her. She wasn’t looking forward to losing her hair again and knew she wouldn’t be allowed to drive. But she didn’t think she was at imminent risk of dying.
She had just finished whole-brain radiotherapy and had started at-home chemotherapy. However, it wasn’t the cancer that took her life. It was a heart attack, likely caused by the strain all the drugs, especially steroids, put on her system. She was expected to have a year or two left, as she was only 58, and was aware she might not make it to 60. She passed away at home with her partner by her side, which was a small comfort.
Losing someone marks the end of a unique set of experiences, memories, feelings, and thoughts. We’re left holding our end of the relationship but with no one on the other end. It’s understandable why people believe in an afterlife, although that’s not something I personally subscribe to.
I’d like to share a few practices that I find helpful when dealing with death. Buddhism, for example, encourages us to reflect on impermanence, especially death. Buddhist teachings remind us that we’re going to get sick and die, and we’ll be separated from everything dear to us. This reflection is meant to enhance our lives by making us aware of what’s truly important.
One practical way to apply this is to ask yourself, “Will this matter on my deathbed?” When you’re frustrated by slow drivers or annoyed at hair left in the sink, it helps to remember these things don’t really matter. What does matter is being happy, experiencing love, and doing something meaningful with your life. You want to be able to say, “That was a life well lived” when your time comes.
Reflecting on death’s inevitability helps us be less shocked when it happens. Even though we all know life ends in death, we tend to live in denial. So it’s essential to keep reminding ourselves of this reality.
Grief is a natural response when we lose someone. It’s painful, and we can either react in ways that add more distress or help us find peace. Judging ourselves for feeling emotional pain or trying to push it away often makes things worse. It’s important to meet our grief with empathy and self-compassion.
When we understand and accept our pain, we can naturally feel compassion for others who are grieving. If we haven’t cultivated self-compassion, our attempts to comfort others can often fall flat or make things worse. Real compassion doesn’t try to fix grief but supports the grieving person through their pain, sometimes just by being present and listening.
Connecting with people positively and joyfully can also be helpful. Funerals often bring long-lost relatives together, which can mix joy with grief. Celebrating the life of the deceased person can bring back happy memories and help balance the sorrow.
Remembering that the future is just an idea can be comforting too. When we mourn the future, we have to realize it never actually existed. This perspective is for self-reflection, not to “fix” other people’s grief. Grief will pass in its own time, though it might never entirely leave and can resurface years later. But this understanding can help reduce additional distress.
Lastly, I’m grateful I called Fiona two weeks before she died. She didn’t like to talk about her health, so we usually communicated briefly by email. That phone call left me with a warm memory without any unresolved tension. So, remember that life is short and make peace where you can. Tomorrow might be too late.
This story is relatable to many. Personally, my brother died by suicide in 2001, in his early 30s, and another brother died of a heart condition in 2003, also in his early 30s. It took years for me to let go of the overwhelming grief. In 2017, my father passed from leukemia, and my mother died of heart issues in 2019. Facing the reality of being the only one left of five was very isolating until I started meditating and learning about Buddhism. Now, when memories of them arise, I do a compassion meditation and send them my love. I smile when I think of them now.