“What happens to bodies in the ground?”

In 1989, while I was being treated for cancer at the University of Michigan Comprehensive Cancer Center, I received a call from an elementary school in Northville. The staff asked me to speak to the school after a beloved teacher had lost her battle with breast cancer.

As was my usual routine, I talked about what had happened and how we could memorialize this teacher in a meaningful way for the school and her family. When I opened it up for questions, the theme seemed to go in the one direction of this subject that made me uncomfortable - what happens to the body in the ground? I was used to answering openly and honestly almost any question I asked, but the concept of explaining decomposition to a large group of elementary school students made me a bit uncomfortable.

I left feeling frustrated that I couldn’t respond to these questions with the same ease that I felt these kids deserved. When I arrived at my appointment at the hospital that day, I shared my frustration with my oncologist. He offered to call a professor who, he promised, despite his lack of bedside manner was a gifted teacher he was sure could help me handle this topic.

I met the professor in the cafeteria and he looked at his watch, signaling he was in a hurry. I explained the experience I had just come from and he said, “So, you want to know what happens to the body in the ground?” I confirmed that was my goal.

Here is the conversation exactly as it happened.

“Our bodies consist of two-thirds of what?” “Water,” I quickly replied.

“What's the other one-third?” I thought about it for a brief moment and somewhat guessed, “Bones.”

“All right, let's review what we've learned. Your body consists of two-third’s water and one-third bones. What happens when water sits still with nowhere to go?” he asked. “It evaporates,” I replied. “What's left?” “Bones,” I responded and then he asked, “Can I go now?”

I was stunned that the one issue that caused my only sense of discomfort could be explained so easily. As he walked away, he turned around and added, “Oh, by the way, make sure they know it doesn't hurt!”

In my blog, “Helping parents tell kids the truth about death,” I stated that the difference between physical death and spiritual death is that, with physical death, it is fact: there is no mystery. The only mystery for me was this explanation and, in less than 60 seconds, that was solved.