Denise, ~1994
“Did you hear that Ralph had a heart attack?” he said.
“Oh, no,” she answered. “But, he was a workaholic.”
“Right. And he smoked two packs a day.”
Why do we do that? Why do we blame the victim instead of the deadly thing that has hold of him? Why do we, in effect, take the side of death and disease, which are the enemies of all of us, over a fellow human being? Is it because we believe that if we behave perfectly, never smoking or eating junk food, exercising regularly; that we somehow will be passed over by age or death?
Do we make a covenant with death that it will be ok if he takes those who are not as nutritionally, healthfully well-behaved as we are, as long as he leaves us alone? Do we feel that if we can believe that the victim was somehow to blame for his disease or death, we will be excused from feeling sad, grieving or facing the fact of our own ultimate mortality?
It seems to me a betrayal of the human family to make excuses for death. Our reaction should always be sorrow that a life has been lost, undiluted by footnotes about his carelessness or bad habits. It is not our fault if someone dies because they did not follow our advice about health, not is it for us to judge their faults. We all make choices for ourselves and we live of die by them, and it is for others to show respect and reverence for their lives.
Next time you hear of a serious illness or death, muffle that impulse to comment on whether the person smoked or ate badly, or worked too hard or too little. But only affirm that he or she was a valued human being and their passing it a loss to all.