My brother called me last night with surgery scheduled for him over the next couple of weeks to tell me of his final wishes should anything go wrong. I don’t have a problem with that or at least I didn't until he told me what he wanted done—which is called a Tibetan Sky burial— and his reasons for wanting it. My brother, a certifiable bad ass who trains with special ops forces, who’s been involved in martial arts since he was 9 or 10. (I still have the pictures of him in his first Gi, white belt and all.) My brother who has trained with guys who aren’t allowed into this country, who heads off to places without a way to contact him, has black belts in things I’ve never heard of, is apparently afraid of heights. He wants his remains soaring in the belly's of birds so that in his next life he isn’t afraid of heights...next life? wtf?
When I was 31, my mother died. She was my best friend and I really didn’t know how to deal with death or dying. I have a lot of shame about my behavior at that time. All that she wanted was to be with me; she told me that all that she wanted was to see my face. All that I wanted was to bury myself into work so that I didn’t feel the pain. She died without friends or family in a hospital bed at 3:30 in the morning—the anniversary was just 2 days ago. If it happened today, it would have been a different experience for her. I didn’t know how to do “death” better than I did back then. It was easier when my father died. Easier, because I know so much about medicine and I was able to ask the right questions to get the right answers. Easier, because I was older and had been through death before. Easier, because I knew I had done everything that could be done. Easier, because I opened the refrigerator and looked at the morphine and asked myself what i was saving it for. Easier, because he was home and I was there and I was able to say to him “dad, open your mouth, this is for pain” and he did. Twenty minutes later, he was gone. Anyone with half a brain can put 2 + 2 together and figure out why hospice care tells you repeatedly not to call an ambulance, not to call the police, not to call the hospital. You’re told over and over to only call the hospice physician because I believe that IF someone were to do an autopsy they would know that the death was caused by the medication and not the cancer itself. My mother worked in a hospital emergency room. One of her favorite expressions was that doctors buried their mistakes. They also take the high road of humanity—the act of being humane.
So this morning I went online to find out about the sky burial...here you have it...
Sky burial or ritual dissection was once a common practice in Tibet. A human corpse is cut into small pieces and placed on a mountaintop, exposing it to the elements and animals – especially to birds of prey. In one account, the leading mok cut off the limbs and hacked the body to pieces, handing each part to his assistants, who used rocks to pound the flesh and bones together to a pulp, which they mixed with tsampa (barley flour with tea and yak butter or milk) before the vultures were summoned to eat.
In several accounts, the flesh was stripped from the bones and given to vultures without further preparation; the bones then were broken up with sledgehammers, and usually mixed with tsampa before being given to the vultures. In another account, vultures were given the whole body. When only the bones remained, they were broken up with mallets, ground with tsampa, and given to crows and hawks that had waited until the vultures had departed.
More google research asked about how does one go about doing this in the U.S.?
Can you have a sky burial? In America, no. I remember a friend talking about how he’d love to be sky buried and even in places like Indian Reservations they don’t allow it anymore. And shipping a body out of the country is nearly impossible unless you have real good reason (i.e., someone from another country dies here will usually be sent back home, but only after a lot of things are done to them in order to protect people from diseases, and that basically would negate a sky burial.)
People have chosen me to carry out their wishes or do things because of my high level of ethics and integrity. I told him that I would do this, but it is not possible…I don’t think I’ll tell him prior to surgery… he doesn’t need to know that I need him here with me more than that.
When I was 31, my mother died. She was my best friend and I really didn’t know how to deal with death or dying. I have a lot of shame about my behavior at that time. All that she wanted was to be with me; she told me that all that she wanted was to see my face. All that I wanted was to bury myself into work so that I didn’t feel the pain. She died without friends or family in a hospital bed at 3:30 in the morning—the anniversary was just 2 days ago. If it happened today, it would have been a different experience for her. I didn’t know how to do “death” better than I did back then. It was easier when my father died. Easier, because I know so much about medicine and I was able to ask the right questions to get the right answers. Easier, because I was older and had been through death before. Easier, because I knew I had done everything that could be done. Easier, because I opened the refrigerator and looked at the morphine and asked myself what i was saving it for. Easier, because he was home and I was there and I was able to say to him “dad, open your mouth, this is for pain” and he did. Twenty minutes later, he was gone. Anyone with half a brain can put 2 + 2 together and figure out why hospice care tells you repeatedly not to call an ambulance, not to call the police, not to call the hospital. You’re told over and over to only call the hospice physician because I believe that IF someone were to do an autopsy they would know that the death was caused by the medication and not the cancer itself. My mother worked in a hospital emergency room. One of her favorite expressions was that doctors buried their mistakes. They also take the high road of humanity—the act of being humane.
So this morning I went online to find out about the sky burial...here you have it...
Sky burial or ritual dissection was once a common practice in Tibet. A human corpse is cut into small pieces and placed on a mountaintop, exposing it to the elements and animals – especially to birds of prey. In one account, the leading mok cut off the limbs and hacked the body to pieces, handing each part to his assistants, who used rocks to pound the flesh and bones together to a pulp, which they mixed with tsampa (barley flour with tea and yak butter or milk) before the vultures were summoned to eat.
In several accounts, the flesh was stripped from the bones and given to vultures without further preparation; the bones then were broken up with sledgehammers, and usually mixed with tsampa before being given to the vultures. In another account, vultures were given the whole body. When only the bones remained, they were broken up with mallets, ground with tsampa, and given to crows and hawks that had waited until the vultures had departed.
More google research asked about how does one go about doing this in the U.S.?
Can you have a sky burial? In America, no. I remember a friend talking about how he’d love to be sky buried and even in places like Indian Reservations they don’t allow it anymore. And shipping a body out of the country is nearly impossible unless you have real good reason (i.e., someone from another country dies here will usually be sent back home, but only after a lot of things are done to them in order to protect people from diseases, and that basically would negate a sky burial.)
People have chosen me to carry out their wishes or do things because of my high level of ethics and integrity. I told him that I would do this, but it is not possible…I don’t think I’ll tell him prior to surgery… he doesn’t need to know that I need him here with me more than that.
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