The Power of Language in How We Relate to Death (and Everything Else)

Words have power. We are collectively afraid of even saying words such as “death” or “die” or “dead.” Such words may be used casually or in general contexts, but when the situation becomes personal they vanish. “Death” becomes “the end of life.” “Dying” becomes “passing away.” The “dead” become the “departed” or someone who “has recently passed.” So few of us are comfortable saying “I am going to die,” either to themselves or their loved ones, let alone “I am going to die, you are going to die, everyone we know will die, and even our planet will die.” Perhaps at first thought it appears that such a statement is rife with morbidity, possibly even nihilism, but I suggest that it is neither. 

To deny death is to deny the fundamental awareness of being alive, and this denial creates fear and anxiety that dictate much of our actions. This was the central thesis of Ernest Becker’s seminal book The Denial of Death, still the most foundational book I recommend on the subject. By openly accepting - and ideally embracing - the nature of our mortality, along with the mortality of every known living entity, we can strive, and succeed, in freeing ourselves from this latent and sometimes overwhelming fear. 

Changing how we talk about death is often the first step in changing our relationship with it. The first step in Alcoholics Anonymous and other such organizations is saying “My name is (name) and I am an alcoholic.” This is very different than saying “My name is (name) and I am an uncontrolled imbiber of fermented fluids.” Yet that is the equivalent of how we speak about death. In my work, a primary metric for where my clients comfort with death is their capacity to say the phrase “My name is (name) and I am going to die.” 

Language Often has a direct effect on perpetuating our beliefs and on our actions. 

Try this exercise: 

Think of something you have struggled with or have a desire to change. It could be something substantial involving another person, such as having a meaningful and open connection with your child, or something personal such as not finding the confidence to engage in the world assertively, or a goal that you struggle with such as learning a musical instrument.

Now, think clearly on how you express this to yourself in your head, and how you would tell another about it. Think of the exact words. 

Most likely, you will say something like: I just can’t connect with my son. Or, I have no confidence to take charge of my life. Or, I could never play the piano.

The problem is that all of these statements are false. They take the past and bring it into the present, and then project into all the upcoming presents that we call the future. In truth, we cannot ever speak about anything other than the past with any certainty, yet too often we use language that suggests that the past is also the present and will be the future. Language can reinforce, again and again, the past into the present and thus the future, and hinders or prevents the very change or outcome we desire. 

The truthful statements would be more like: I have struggled to connect with my son in the past. I haven’t yet found the confidence to take charge of my life. The piano has been challenging for me to learn. 

The change in language is subtle but powerful. The first set of statements leave little to no room for change or growth. The past is also the present and will be in the future. Perhaps some external miracle may occur, but it feels out of the individual’s power or control. The second set of statements recognize what has come before without denial, but leave room for something different to be found or created intentionally.

Such is the case with how we discuss death. In the west, death is typically spoken of as something to be scared of. The imagery is harsh and brutal, typified by the grim reaper. The attitude is somber, depressed and dark. And our very inability to use direct language embodies this fear. But what happens if we start using language differently? What opportunities to shift such deep seated fear arise though a subtle shift in how we use language, with ourselves and with others? 

In my death doula training program, we watched an excellent video by the BC government on advanced care planning, such as creating a Representative Agreement (appointing someone to make health decisions if you are unable to do so) or an Advance Directive (stating your health decisions in advance in case you are unable to do so). The information is excellent and helpful and the video is linked on my Links page. However, the exact first words spoken by the host are: “The end of life is a difficult time.” In eight words, at the very outset, the tone is set: dying is hard and that’s just the way it is. My work is to shift this attitude. 

There is no denial that death can bring with it loss, grief, absence and so much more. It is, by its nature, a time of the deepest transition, both for the dying and their loved ones. But how we prepare for and engage with death is under our individual control. It is possible to engage with death in a healthy, positive manner, and altering our use of language is often the first step in altering our relationship with death.