“the unsanitized reality, the life that’s compelled to confront what happens now”
Find this a balm in the midst of the “you don’t need to document every aspect of your life” slash-back. Why not? What the fuck else do we have to document, you fearful motherfuckers? X you’re marvellous, Charles.
I’m guilty sometimes of using “passed away” instead of “died” in my writing and speech. When I write about my father, for instance, “passed away” soothes the loss for me, whereas “died” feels like I’m opening a wound. And then there is the media, which delights in shock, employing headlines like “Philip Seymour Hoffman, dead at 46.” Some euphemisms, despite their treacly or cliched existence, take the coarseness out of words like “dead” or “died.” I think clerics and funeral directors employ “passed away” in an effort to be gentle with the bereaved. But no doubt, the passage of time makes it easier to say what it is. Thanks for another thoughtful exploration, Charles.
Thank you for the comment, John. Perhaps the distinction that we hear—with each of us having a slightly different reaction to the same words—is part of what makes language so endlessly fascinating.
Thank you. I have detested the phrase "passed away" ever since it was used in connection with my grandmother's death, when I was ten years old. Even worse, to my ear--and we hear this more and more--is "passed." Ugh.
I just came across your Substack and loved reading this—especially your reflection on how time smooths away the individual edges and distinctive qualities of artists; the individual Impressionists are submerged beneath the art-historical movement of Impressionism in general…
Perhaps I am in the minority, but I like the euphemism "passed away" precisely because it has been softened. And I disagree that the softening is either a downgrading or a sanitization. I think it represents an important intermediary state between biological death and a more final relational death. We live in a biologically tormented age, one that has moved away from religion and spirituality, one that rejects anything that cannot be tangibly shown in our severely limited worldly lives. As a result, we have severely overemphasized the totality of biological death. Passed away carries itself as if it recognizes that biological death is not the final death. Someone who has recently died still lives on in the minds of those closest to them, in their memories, in their prayers, in their own motivations and personalities. There is often a long time between biological death and the final death of that person's immediate impact on the world through those who knew them. Someone who has passed on has left our biological realm, but they are still very much present in the world in other ways.
Herein lies the connection to time. I agree that the use of "passed away" in the opening passage is silly and feels sanitized, precisely because there is no way that the person at Pompeii is still impacting the world. (Putting aside arguments about living on through historical importance). That person has more than passed on from biological life, they have died in ways far beyond that. There is no one left alive who remembers them, there is nothing still operating that can be traced to their direct involvement. That person is dead and fully at rest. But for those who we are still grieving, who we miss every day and carry in our hearts, I don't think that equating them with the dead at Pompeii makes sense. I like passed away as a euphemism to capture that they may be physically gone, but their spirit is not yet deceased.
Apologies for such a long comment! Hope you are having a great day.
Thank you for the comment and adding your thoughts, Matt. You do express an intriguing point about that phrase: "I think it represents an important intermediary state between biological death and a more final relational death."
“Gone on to his/her/their reward” is another obituary euphemism, as if death were some kind of contest that results in winning a ribbon or a genuine gold plastic cup.
In my line of work, my colleagues and I deal with death every day. Death is our job (or rather the investigation of). With that comes the common task of telling someone their relative has died. Often it’s the first time they’re hearing it. While I understand what you’re saying and we have no issue calling it death (almost to a fault), psychologically the words “passed away” are softer and warmer to grieving families. At least in my experience. Understandably, there’s nothing you can say that will take that pain away. They’re dealing with death regardless of how you word it and death is always hard. But if saying it like that allows them to process it a little better or at least soften the blow, what harm has it done?
In reference to the 2,000 year old remains, no, it makes little difference considering no one is alive today to feel the pain of that loss. So I agree with you there.
And in fact, we don’t pass away. No matter how our corpse, love that word too, so Victorian- is handled, our molecules remain here, mingling with the air, water, dirt, hopefully some worms, and then in a bird. When we deny death we deny our connection to this planet, to the universe, to every other single thing here. What are we so afraid of
I’ve been planning my debut as an eccentric person for a few decades....
There's always time to change. Thank for the comment, Stuart.
“the unsanitized reality, the life that’s compelled to confront what happens now”
Find this a balm in the midst of the “you don’t need to document every aspect of your life” slash-back. Why not? What the fuck else do we have to document, you fearful motherfuckers? X you’re marvellous, Charles.
Perhaps fear should be at least a partial aspect of every explanation too. Thank you very much, Jill.
I’m guilty sometimes of using “passed away” instead of “died” in my writing and speech. When I write about my father, for instance, “passed away” soothes the loss for me, whereas “died” feels like I’m opening a wound. And then there is the media, which delights in shock, employing headlines like “Philip Seymour Hoffman, dead at 46.” Some euphemisms, despite their treacly or cliched existence, take the coarseness out of words like “dead” or “died.” I think clerics and funeral directors employ “passed away” in an effort to be gentle with the bereaved. But no doubt, the passage of time makes it easier to say what it is. Thanks for another thoughtful exploration, Charles.
Thank you for the comment, John. Perhaps the distinction that we hear—with each of us having a slightly different reaction to the same words—is part of what makes language so endlessly fascinating.
Agreed.
Thank you. I have detested the phrase "passed away" ever since it was used in connection with my grandmother's death, when I was ten years old. Even worse, to my ear--and we hear this more and more--is "passed." Ugh.
That's a good point. The shorter version sounds even more elusive. Thank you for the comment.
I just came across your Substack and loved reading this—especially your reflection on how time smooths away the individual edges and distinctive qualities of artists; the individual Impressionists are submerged beneath the art-historical movement of Impressionism in general…
Thank you very much for the kind words and the comment, Celine.
Perhaps I am in the minority, but I like the euphemism "passed away" precisely because it has been softened. And I disagree that the softening is either a downgrading or a sanitization. I think it represents an important intermediary state between biological death and a more final relational death. We live in a biologically tormented age, one that has moved away from religion and spirituality, one that rejects anything that cannot be tangibly shown in our severely limited worldly lives. As a result, we have severely overemphasized the totality of biological death. Passed away carries itself as if it recognizes that biological death is not the final death. Someone who has recently died still lives on in the minds of those closest to them, in their memories, in their prayers, in their own motivations and personalities. There is often a long time between biological death and the final death of that person's immediate impact on the world through those who knew them. Someone who has passed on has left our biological realm, but they are still very much present in the world in other ways.
Herein lies the connection to time. I agree that the use of "passed away" in the opening passage is silly and feels sanitized, precisely because there is no way that the person at Pompeii is still impacting the world. (Putting aside arguments about living on through historical importance). That person has more than passed on from biological life, they have died in ways far beyond that. There is no one left alive who remembers them, there is nothing still operating that can be traced to their direct involvement. That person is dead and fully at rest. But for those who we are still grieving, who we miss every day and carry in our hearts, I don't think that equating them with the dead at Pompeii makes sense. I like passed away as a euphemism to capture that they may be physically gone, but their spirit is not yet deceased.
Apologies for such a long comment! Hope you are having a great day.
Thank you for the comment and adding your thoughts, Matt. You do express an intriguing point about that phrase: "I think it represents an important intermediary state between biological death and a more final relational death."
“Gone on to his/her/their reward” is another obituary euphemism, as if death were some kind of contest that results in winning a ribbon or a genuine gold plastic cup.
That's an excellent point on another euphemism—thank you for the comment, Paul.
In my line of work, my colleagues and I deal with death every day. Death is our job (or rather the investigation of). With that comes the common task of telling someone their relative has died. Often it’s the first time they’re hearing it. While I understand what you’re saying and we have no issue calling it death (almost to a fault), psychologically the words “passed away” are softer and warmer to grieving families. At least in my experience. Understandably, there’s nothing you can say that will take that pain away. They’re dealing with death regardless of how you word it and death is always hard. But if saying it like that allows them to process it a little better or at least soften the blow, what harm has it done?
In reference to the 2,000 year old remains, no, it makes little difference considering no one is alive today to feel the pain of that loss. So I agree with you there.
Thank you for the comment and for adding your thoughts here, MaKenna.
And in fact, we don’t pass away. No matter how our corpse, love that word too, so Victorian- is handled, our molecules remain here, mingling with the air, water, dirt, hopefully some worms, and then in a bird. When we deny death we deny our connection to this planet, to the universe, to every other single thing here. What are we so afraid of
Thank you for the comment and adding your thoughts, Shannon. I can certainly agree—that description sounds quite idyllic and serene to me.