Different Shades of Death

B Joseph Rittenhouse

Sedona AZ — There are different kinds of deaths. Different levels of pain and suffering—for both those who die  and those they leave behind.

There is sudden death. The kind that occurs as an accident. A car goes off the highway and slams into a tree. A building explodes. A stray bullet hits you in the brain. A bomb goes off. and you happen to be sitting on it. People can understand that kind of death and deal with it. They had nothing to do with it. It was an act of God. Blame him. That’s it.

Then there is a cold, lingering death—the kind that happens when the person you love is in the hospital, slowly dying by inches. Being given two months to live, then a week to live. A day. Hooked up to machines, watching them dwindle by the minute.

It’s the getting to the death that creates so much suffering, as well as the actual death itself. And then the machine flatlines and it beeps—a steady tone—and you know your loved one is gone, hopefully resting in peace. You got to see it happen. You were there. And if you were lucky, you were there at- the-moment your loved one passed away. That kind of death is longer than the quick, sudden death, but in some way, a little bit better. You get to say good-bye

Then there is death by suicide. That is horrendous, because it leaves the people who loved you behind wondering what they should have done, what they didn’t do, how they contributed to the suicide. It’s a painful death—not so much for the person who commits suicide, but for those who are left behind, wondering forever what happened. Why? Why didn’t you see it coming? It’s a shocking, mean death for those who are still alive.

Then there is the sorrowful death that occurs when the person you love is kidnapped. You don’t know if they’re alive or not, or if they’re gone. When a child goes missing, the torture for the living is profound. What happened? Where are they? Are they suffering? Are they being tortured? Will we ever see them again alive? Sorrow heaped upon sorrow. Suffering upon suffering. Not knowing— wondering what the hell is going on.

Yes, that’s the death we’re all witnessing now on TV—well, I should say the kidnapping we’re watching on TV. The family torn to pieces, suffering, jumping at every phone call, not knowing what they can do because they’re helpless. They have to let the authorities take it over. So there’s nothing you can do except suffer and wait and hope and pray.

So yes, death—for the survivors—can vary in degree, in level of suffering. The same goes for the person who dies. To die quickly—wow—done. You’re finished.

To die slowly over 30 days, suffering with pain from cancer or another fatal disease, surrounded by your family if you have one—there is some compensation in that.

And then there is death by suicide. No one knows what happens when a person does that. But we do know what happens to those left behind: suffering, anguish, worry. But nothing—nothing—compares to the kidnapping of a loved one.

So, America, pray that it never happens to you. Pray for Nancy’s return today.