In Memorium

Yesterday was a thanatopsis, as we ceremonially assisted Charon in his task.

Thanatopsis is a word formed from the Greek words for death (thanatos) and opsis (view or sight). It was also the name of an 1817 poem by William Cullen Bryant. You can read the poem here. It is more about the dying (or is it dyeing?) than about the prospect of eternal life, and while there is mention of others who have gone before it is not as if there is a reunion with them, just a joining in death. So I don't quote it here. I am convinced my father joined my mother in heaven. (In fact, my brother Bob tells the story that follows.)

A couple weeks before my Dad died, he was waiting for me at the door of his retirement home when I came in for a visit--which NEVER happened. I always had to find him. But this time, I pushed his wheelchair over to an armchair and asked him why he was waiting for me. "I want to go see Millie," he said. That was also strange, because for at least the last year, maybe two or more, he would look puzzled when I mentioned Millie (my Mom) to him. But that day, he seemed as clear as could be, as if he could just get in my car and go see Millie.

It was just curious to me at the time....but last night it dawned on me that maybe he had a sense of going to see Millie before I had any idea that he would soon leave this life. 

So yesterday much of the family gathered for a memorial service for my father. Thanatopsis, a view of or musing upon death, was a word for it, but in reality it was more of a musing on the life of someone dear to us, recounting his foibles (foremost among them the odd use of his handkerchief - you'll have a to ask me about that one) but also the reprise of some of his favorite solos - he was renowned for his vocal presentations. And the meditation was brought by my nephew David, a Greek Orthodox priest serving as a chaplain in the Navy. I particularly enjoyed the Greek portion of the meditation that included a Greek hymn sung first by David and his three sons then by all the assembled.

And so we assisted Charon, according to Greek mythology the name of the boatman who ferried the souls of the newly departed over the river Styx. (The word charon can be used of any ferryman, but should only be used ironically.)

In the opening paragraph I mused over death. Actually, I mused over the word dying. Why is the word die but the form of the word dying? (I'm not sure whether the form is present participle form or gerund or even a deverbal noun; I'm more interested in the etymology.)

While the word die, meaning to cease to live, is common and dates back in English to the mid-1100s, it also refers to one of a pair of dice or for a stamping or cutting device that forms or cuts material from cloth to metal. The process of stamping or cutting won the battle over the use of the word dieing. If you are using a stamp to form (for instance) a coin, you are dieing. While the word die (ceasing to live) probably came from a Dutch or Norse word (there are many English words with their roots in Old Norse, since the Vikings ruled England until the Battle at Stamford Bridge in 1066, as I'm sure you remember.)

The word could not be spelled dyeing lest it be confused with the process of coloring

An interesting (to me) etylological thanatopsis from etymonline.com:

Languages usually don't borrow words from abroad for central life experiences, but "die" words are an exception, because they are often hidden or changed euphemistically out of superstitious dread. A Dutch euphemism translates as "to give the pipe to Maarten." Regularly spelled dege through [the 15th century], and still pronounced "dee" by some in Lancashire and Scotland. Used figuratively (of sounds, etc.) from [the] 1580s. 

I cannot leave the Lancashire/Scottish pronunciation without mentioning (since I mentioned my younger brother, Bob, earlier) that my older brother Don's middle name is "Dee."

So why is the noun form of the act of dying called death? I would prefer to think it comes from the Old Irish word dith but etymonline.com informs us that it comes from the Old English where it was deað.

Finally, one of my favorite poems (ever since son Joe learned it as part of his presentation in high school's Rotary speech contest) has been John Donne's poem "No Man Is An Island" which contains these words: "Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind."

So I am diminished today, but joyful because, as Dad anticipated rejoining his loved ones in heaven, so I look forward to that reunion as much as I enjoyed the one that took place this weekend. Or, as it's put in Revelation 21:4,

There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. 

RIP Charles Vernon Hostetler, April 26, 1920 - March 9, 2015