Tribute to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

September 4, 2004

When Elisabeth Kubler-Ross came into the world on July 8, 1926, the axis of the planet must have shifted a bit. This peanut of a triplet, full of sassiness and self-confidence, a rebel with a cause, embarked upon a journey that would ultimately change the world forever. Relying on her keen intellect, using her strong and true heart as her rudder, her compassion and integrity as her compass, Elisabeth worked tirelessly on behalf of disenfranchised populations, most particularly the dying. Often called the mother of hospice in the U.S. (along with Florence Wald of Connecticut), Elisabeth brought dying and death out of the closet and placed them squarely on the public agenda. Her death with dignity movement espoused autonomy and respect for dying individuals and their families, effective pain control, attention to emotional and spiritual needs, and the importance of taking care of unfinished business before death. Elisabeth’s tireless work on behalf of others cost her dearly in terms of her professional and personal life. She often remarked that she had had a hard life—not a complaint, just the way it was…

From the first time I met Elisabeth at a lecture at the University of Virginia, back in the late 70’s, I was aware of the intersection between the ordinary and the extraordinary in her life. Here was this diminutive woman, wearing Birkenstock sandals and a house dress, thick horn-rimmed glasses, speaking with a pronounced accent—she could have been anyone, and yet this was THE Elisabeth Kubler-Ross who had launched the death with dignity movement. As soon as Elisabeth began to speak, the ordinariness of the encounter was transformed into an extraordinary event—she spoke of the time when she announced to her mentor in medical school that she had decided to dedicate her life to work with the dying. His response was to spit on her, turn away in disgust and inform her that she was wasting a brilliant medical career. As usual, Elisabeth’s resolve was not diminished. After that lecture, I embarked on a career in the field of end-of-life care, one of a million points of light ignited by Elisabeth’s flame.

I did not have the opportunity to experience Elisabeth up close and personal again until 2002, when I and a number of folks from Vermont visited Elisabeth because of a documentary we were making about the history of hospice. This encounter spawned a very special friendship between the “gang” in Vermont and Elisabeth and Ken. Little did we know what we were in store for in getting to know the ordinary human being behind the legend of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.

Elisabeth often remarked that she had two regrets in life—not being mischievous enough and not having danced enough. We soon came to realize that Elisabeth’s dancing occurred in those eyes of hers and that she was a prankster of the first order. For example, during our second visit to see Elisabeth, the Vermont gang, including camera crew, volunteered to take Elisabeth to her favorite animal park here in Scottsdale. Little did we realize that this “icon” who had worked to free Nelson Mandela and counseled royalty in times of grief, was such an iconoclast—she hated to be deferred to or idealized. Within two hours of our arrival at the park, Elisabeth had shoplifted a sleeve full of polished stones (which we dutifully put back)—although I must admit that a few stray ones fell out of her pants later that day—she defied a no-smoking order at an outdoor restaurant by being photographed holding three lit cigarettes in her hand; she borrowed a pen, laboriously got out of her wheelchair and wrote her name on a coke machine; and finally, she was busted by the park police for feeding giraffes her Ritz crackers, despite the large posted sign that said “Do not feed the animals!” Typical of Elisabeth’s generous spirit, she shared her crackers with eager children who delighted in the giraffe’s long, sticky tongue. Elisabeth reveled in her social deviance and mercilessly labeled us cowards and do-gooders for being worried about the consequences of her actions. However, we soon learned we could win back her affection with Swiss chocolate (not candy) and lobster!

One of the other extraordinary qualities Elisabeth possessed was her uncanny ability to sniff out inauthenticity, and her friends knew Elisabeth divided the world into two camps—those who are authentic and the “phony baloneys.” For those of us who passed the sniff test, one thing was certain—we always knew where we stood with Elisabeth—and that was often in the corner, for having said something stupid or Republican!

On Tuesday, August 24, after nearly ten years of failing health, Elisabeth was finally able to leave her body and this world. For those of us who loved Elisabeth, it was difficult witnessing her struggle to learn her final two life lessons—patience and unconditional self-love—lessons she said she needed to learn in order to move on. During a visit with Elisabeth in June, I asked her how she was doing with her lessons. She announced that she had finally learned patience because her circumstances left her no choice. She was still, however, struggling with unconditional self-love. At 8:10 p.m. on Tuesday, August 24, her final lesson was learned as I, along with David Kessler, her children Barbara and Ken, witnessed Elisabeth’s transition. The butterfly, its wings having been strengthened by the struggle to exit the cocoon, gracefully emerged from its chrysalis and took flight, headed for “a world more loving and glorious than we can imagine.”

In an early work, Elisabeth wrote:

“Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star. One of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment, only to disappear into the endless night forever.”

Despite her protestations, Elisabeth was a star of the first magnitude, whose light raised the consciousness of humanity and brought the topics of dying and death out of the darkness. Though Elisabeth’s star has been transformed, its light CANNOT and WILL NOT “disappear into the endless night forever.” It is the responsibility of each of us to carry Elisabeth’s light into the shadows of fear and ignorance so that everyone in every corner of the world will have the opportunity to die on their own terms, peacefully, without pain, surrounded by family and friends. THE extraordinary Elisabeth Kubler-Ross did ultimately achieve a death with dignity—the kind of passage that even the most ordinary of human beings deserves.

Thank you, Elisabeth, for all you have given to us and to the world. May you “dance across the galaxies” forever.

D. Brookes Cowan, Ph.D., MSW

Chair, Madison-Deane Initiative

Visiting Nurse Association of Chittenden and Grand Isle Counties

Vermont, USA