Common regrets/questions at the end of life, The Shield of Achilles

I was listening to World One Radio the other morning. Someone was talking about regrets at the end of life and by some miracle I had pen and paper at hand. Below is more or less what the person said – I was struck by the similarities to what I used to teach in hospice training and similar forums. I’ve added to the WorldOne list based primarily on what I taught (and still believe).

What this is about is that we have our life; we have our choices; this is it – no second chances except within the context of this life. In other words, it’s not too late. It’s getting late, but it’s not too late. Common regrets/issues at the end of life include, I wish I had…

Been truer to myself.

Been more loving toward the people who matter the most (what really matters in life is love).

Been a better spouse, parent, child.

Had the courage to express my feelings.

Stayed in touch with friends.

Not worked so hard.

Taken more risks.

Taken better care of myself.

Done more for others.

Let myself be happier and enjoy life more.

(One who sees the way in the morning will gladly die in the evening.)

—————-

The Shield of Achilles

Some years ago I knew a man who had been a doctor in the Iraqi army during the Iran-Iraq War in the 1980s. About 1,000,000 people (half combatants, half civilians) were killed in the desert and trenches and artillery and human wave attacks and poison gas and horror. Since that war, the following poem has resonated in me in an awful way.

Now a question arises, will America fight the next war against North Korea or against Iran? Here are some lines from The Shield of Achilles (WH Auden, 1955).

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,

No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,

Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,

Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood

An unintelligible multitude,

A million eyes, a million boots in line,

Without expression, waiting for a sign.

 

Out of the air a voice without a face

Proved by statistics that some cause was just

In tones as dry and level as the place:

No one was cheered and nothing was discussed;

Column by column in a cloud of dust

They marched away enduring a belief

Whose logic brought them, somewhere else, to grief.

—————-

I feel sick