Life, Death and Politics: A Memoir of Courage

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They listen to me perhaps more respectfully, knowing what I've just been through. Pat Buchanan, upon seeing me in the greenroom before the taping, offers his sympathy, saying quite memorably, "You took a big hit, kid." It was heartfelt and kind and rakish all at once, like Humphrey Bogart in the movie "Casablanca," underscoring why Pat is so popular among both his ideological foes and friends.

John ends the segment with a "political repercussion scale," with zero meaning zero political repercussion from the Terri Schiavo saga and ten meaning "nuclear-scale repercussion politically." Buchanan says it's an eight or nine in terms of poisoning and polarizing American politics. I give it a six, with the advantage going to the Democrats. Blankley gives it a three. O'Donnell agrees with me, that it's a six. "I'll go with a six," McLaughlin booms, and the sixes win.

The show closes with a tribute to Tom that John prepared earlier. The producer tells me that he had planned to deliver it live but couldn't get through the read without his voice breaking up. Tom's picture appears on the screen as John announces "In memoriam: Another death occurred this week much closer to home, Tom Brazaitis, a member of this television family, Eleanor's husband. Tom was a gifted journalist, a generous man, a loving father and husband, a witty, talented athlete, singer and dancer, without a mean bone in his body. He was sick for a long time and died at home with his beloved Eleanor, who I asked to be with us today, which is what Tom would have wanted."

It was a beautiful farewell and Tom would have loved it.

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No, snarkopolitan, that's not the source of my "harshness," as you call it. I held my father's hand as he died of colon cancer at home, in his own bed. I found my mother dead of a heart attack. I have lost many other family members whom I have mourned deeply. I have also mourned many patients over the years, and am still in touch with many of their families, years after the death of their loved one.

After my father died, I couldn't believe that life went on, that the sun came up, that other people were going about their business when my father was dead. How could they not see that the most important person in the world (to me) was dead? Why were the flags not at half-mast, why were others not crying?

I have attended literally thousands of patients in my career, and, as I noted below, worked in ICU, Hospice, and oncology, where patient acuity is high and deaths are frequent. I have also led grief support groups. (So much for "the tiny amount [I] know.")

I read Ms. Clift's article several times, as one who has experienced loss and from a professional perspective. And my assessment of her behavior is the same. Having seen and experienced as much grief as I have over mant years, I can honestly say that I have never seen a reaction like hers.

I feel sorry for her because one day she will die and may be abandoned in her last moments as her husband was. I'm sorry for her because she will regret her behavior. And because she is such an unfeeling person.

I am sorry for your loss. Your pain is evident in your posts, in their confusion and anger. It's understandable, given that your loss is so fresh. And people often take their disbelief and anger and pain on others, because they can't take it out on the loved one who is lost. That's OK. You need to get rid of it somehow.

You had the guts to be with your father when he died, in an alien environment, surrounded by strangers, instead of sleeping comfortably in your bed at home or simply refusing to be with him because it was too painful for you. That is one of the most difficult acts one will ever do in life. Ms, Clift, is known for her "toughness," yet she fled death when it came to her husband, letting others assume her duties as a spouse. Tough? I think not. Compassionate? No. Cowardly? Yes.

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Posted By: M. Smith @ 04/01/2008 9:04:33 AM

Which woman?
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Posted By: Toni Kamau @ 04/01/2008 6:30:56 AM

Sorry, forgive me, but this woman is a monster in my eyes.
Is such a behavior normal in the USA?
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Posted By: M. Smith @ 03/31/2008 1:06:45 PM

No, snarkopolitan, that's not the source of my "harshness," as you call it. I held my father's hand as he died of colon cancer at home, in his own bed. I found my mother dead of a heart attack. I have lost many other family members whom I have mourned deeply. I have also mourned many patients over the years, and am still in touch with many of their families, years after the death of their loved one.

After my father died, I couldn't believe that life went on, that the sun came up, that other people were going about their business when my father was dead. How could they not see that the most important person in the world (to me) was dead? Why were the flags not at half-mast, why were others not crying?

I have attended literally thousands of patients in my career, and, as I noted below, worked in ICU, Hospice, and oncology, where patient acuity is high and deaths are frequent. I have also led grief support groups. (So much for "the tiny amount [I] know.")

I read Ms. Clift's article several times, as one who has experienced loss and from a professional perspective. And my assessment of her behavior is the same. Having seen and experienced as much grief as I have over mant years, I can honestly say that I have never seen a reaction like hers.

I feel sorry for her because one day she will die and may be abandoned in her last moments as her husband was. I'm sorry for her because she will regret her behavior. And because she is such an unfeeling person.

I am sorry for your loss. Your pain is evident in your posts, in their confusion and anger. It's understandable, given that your loss is so fresh. And people often take their disbelief and anger and pain on others, because they can't take it out on the loved one who is lost. That's OK. You need to get rid of it somehow.

You had the guts to be with your father when he died, in an alien environment, surrounded by strangers, instead of sleeping comfortably in your bed at home or simply refusing to be with him because it was too painful for you. That is one of the most difficult acts one will ever do in life. Ms, Clift, is known for her "toughness," yet she fled death when it came to her husband, letting others assume her duties as a spouse. Tough? I think not. Compassionate? No. Cowardly? Yes.