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The grief, shame, and guilt are not very far removed from feelings of anger and rage. The process of grief always includes some elements of anger. Since none of us likes to admit anger at a deceased person, these emotions are often disguised or repressed, and prolong the period of grief, or show up in other ways. It is well to remember that it is not up to us to judge such feelings as bad or shameful but to understand their true meaning and origin as something very human. In order to illustrate this I will again use the example of the child-and the child in us all. The fiveyear-old who loses his mother is both blaming himself for her disappearance and expressing anger at her for having deserted him and for no longer gratifying his needs. The dead person then turns into something the child loves and wants very much, but also hates with equal intensity for this severe deprivation. The ancient Hebrews regarded the body of a dead person as something unclean and not to be touched. The early American Indians talked about evil spirits, and shot arrows into the air to drive the spirits away. Many other cultures have rituals to take care of the "bad" dead person, and they all originate in this feeling of anger which still exists in all of us, though we dislike admitting it. The tradition of the tombstone may originate in this wish to keep the bad spirits deep down in the ground, and the pebbles that many mourners put on the grave are left-over symbols of the same wish. Though we call the firing of guns at military funerals a last salute, it is, perhaps, the same symbolic ritual as the Indian used when he shot his spears and arrows into the skies.

I give these examples to emphasize that man has not basically changed. Death is still a fearful, frightening happening, and the fear of death is a universal fear even if we think we have mastered it on many levels. What has changed is our way of coping and dealing with death and dying and with our dying patients. Having been raised in a country in Europe where science is not so advanced, where modern techniques have just started to find their way into medicine, and where people still live as they did in this country half a century ago, I may have had an opportunity to study a part of the evolution of mankind in a telescoped form. I remember, as a child, the death of a farmer. He fell from a tree and was not expected to live. He asked simply to die at home, a wish that was granted without questioning. He called his daughters into the bedroom and spoke with each one of them alone for a few minutes. He arranged his affairs quietly, though he was in great pain, and distributed his belongings and his land, none of which was to be split until his wife should follow him in death. He also asked each of his children to share in the work, duties, and tasks that he had carried on until the time of the accident. He asked his friends to visit him once more, to bid good-bye to them. Although I was a small child at the rime, he did not exclude me or my siblings. We were allowed to share in the preparations of the family just as we were permitted to grieve with them until he died. When he did die, he was left in his own home, which he had built, and among his friends and neighbors who went to take a last look at him where he lay in the midst of flowers in the place he had lived in and loved so. In that country today there is still no make-believe slumber room, no embalming, no false make-up to pretend sleep.

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