Death becomes all of us...eventually, even Bing Crosby

October 14^th – How do you want to go? Not as in travel, as in go-go. Fast/sudden? Slow/prolonged? Those of you, like me, who’re dealing with or have dealt with elderly parents, will probably have considered this in greater depth than most. Watching the gradual decline of a one-time vibrant individual is not an easy option; I know every time period in one’s life is different but, with dementia and Alzheimer’s so prevalent nowadays, some are more degrading than others, y’know? With difficult decisions having to be made it doesn’t help when the final place of residence is settled upon and you discover the chosen place is full of people just like yours and that all these people, too, are someone’s mother, father, son, daughter; this isn’t the best bedtime story, I agree. All these people had hopes and dreams for their future…you can bet your bottom dollar this didn’t figure in their equations.

Fast or slow endings, both these options have a downside…well, yes, OK, more than a downside but you know what I mean…who was it said;

I know midwives tell us the first six minutes of life are crucial; I can say without fear of contradiction that the last six are not without their problems either”

Sounds like it should’ve been Woody Allen. Whatever, in the first scenario you don’t get any prep time and no opportunity to ready yourself and others, no time to organise and put in place those things thought important for the dignified, fair and inevitable outcome. That means those you leave behind lack complete closure because they too were denied the opportunity to have their say; one second you’re around, next you’re not, whoosh!

In the second scenario you run the risk of outstaying your welcome and dragging out a painful process for all. There’s only so many times you can say goodbye, only so many tears you can cry (I didn’t do that deliberately as a cue for a song, that’s just the way it came out…said the Art Mistress to the Gardener) and one runs the risk of suddenly snapping out with;

Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you gonna go or what?

and not meaning it, not really.

Thing is, it’s the folk left behind who have to cope. You? Well, you’re off on the ultimate road-trip so it’s as much as makes no diff so, although there’s really only two ways to go (fast-slow) maybe we can at least make the imposition of a swift end more palatable for the receiver.

With that in mind I give you your very own FaceBook guide to ten happier ways to swiftly meet your maker immediately after...

1) With the winning Lottery ticket in one hand, a glass of malt in the other and two ladies/gentlemen of your choice beckoning you to a night out.

2) For Men. Turning the rain – fairy – 12-inch pianist joke on its head and completing the outcome with the lady of your choice.

3)  For Women. Getting into that size 10 little black number for the first time in 25 years which makes you look 15 years younger and having the man of your dreams coming over to you with a bottle of Pol Roger in one hand, two champagne glasses in the other, and having him say;

Do you want to go out with me for the rest of your life?

4) On being told after a prolonged bout of illness;

There really is no need to worry; you’ve got another thirty years in you yet.

5) On being the only person on the scene of an incident, realising the patient needs mouth-to-mouth and then discovering the patient is a partially-clothed Patrick Swayze or Pamela Anderson.

6) On being told you’ve been left the majority of shares in the Balvenie Distillery or the Jimmy Choo empire.

7) On getting exactly what you wanted for Christmas.

8) At the cumulative relief after a long bout of constipation.

9) On completing the required discipline in the sport you’ve struggled in and loved for years.

10) On playing drums to perfection on a live recording of Technical Difficulties with the original guitarists in Racer X…oh, OK, that’ll be just me then will it?

On this day in 1977, after a full and highly interesting life, Bing Crosby chose a number 9 to close out his days, suffering a massive heart attack at the finish of a round of golf in Spain and bringing a new meaning to the phrase, going to the 19^th hole. After looking round the old folks home today where my mum is, I can think of worse ways to go…