Death and punctuation share a common function. Both are endings, one marking a completed sentence, the other a completed life.

Make metaphors of some punctuation marks, and they can represent certain philosophies regarding the afterlife. A period, for example, might indicate the demise of an atheist, that is, life is over and done with. The question mark belongs to the agnostic: Does God exist, and if so, is there life after death? An exclamation point applies to Mr. Oblivious after that last breath: I never saw this coming! And death with an ellipsis … well, that’s a sign of uncertainty or suspense, a grammatical emblem of a trailing off into silence or of staying tuned, there’s more to come. What’s next? the ellipsis asks, all the while beckoning us to come and find out.

Most of us, I suspect, see death with the ellipsis. However strong their religious faith, believers have no specific road map of the journey they’ll take after that final heartbeat. Unlike a visit to the local grocery or a walk down Main Street, death manifests mystery like … well, like the ellipsis. We know where the baked goods are in the store or what hours the coffee shop is open, but those three little dots conceal the specifics of the afterlife.

And it’s those three dots, so bundled with uncertainty and the unknown, that rouse legitimate fears of death and dying. After all, if you parachuted alone into the Selva alta region of the Peruvian Andes, where you’d spend your days and nights with jaguars, the deadly Fer-de-Lance, and Columbian Giant Redleg tarantulas, you might be a bit apprehensive. Why should parachuting into the Land of the Dead be any different?

Even many Christians, who profess their belief in the “life everlasting,” find themselves restricted by the limitations of their humanity and imagination, and view that ellipsis with trepidation. Like the father seeking a cure for his demon-possessed son in the Gospel of Mark, they cry out, “Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!”

Let’s face it. Death’s knock at the door can be terrifying.

Enter the em dash.

So-called because these two horizontal lines together are the equivalent in length of the typed M, the em dash, like the ellipsis, has several functions. It can, for instance, amplify or specify material, as in “Aliyah studied for her finals—math was her particular bugaboo—for five hours before hugging the sheets that night.” It can signal clarification. “Genevieve said, “That last problem set of equations—I think I missed at least half of them.”

Finally, and most pertinent here, an em dash can indicate a shift in direction. “Aliyah shook off the test—‘Let’s hit the coffee shop and talk about anything but exams.”

Apply this last use of the em dash as metaphor – a reorientation of the compass on our journey through life – and we have a tool to help us prepare for death. In our age of self-esteem, which so frequently flips into narcissism, finding ways to die to the bumptious self and to live more in God is surely essential should we wish to diminish our fear of death. This is the aim, for instance, of Catholics, the Orthodox, and some Protestants during the penitential 40 days of Lent. They fast and pray as a symbolic means of dying to the self, a wintertime act of self-abnegation that they may then more fully enjoy the springtime of Resurrection.

All Christians, not just these groups and not just during Lent but year-round, are called to this practice of shrinking the self. “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up the cross and follow me,” Christ said. The young rich man rejected that invitation, unable to give up his wealth. Later, Paul writes, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.”

Moreover, both believers and non-believers can diminish the fear of death by living for others: the mothers and fathers who sacrifice so much from love of their children, the employer who puts his workers before his own needs and pleasures, the soldier who lays down his life for his comrades. Because these men and women and so many others aim for goals beyond self-satisfaction and self-gain, they acquire the virtue of courage.

By turning away from the mirror of the self, that last ellipsis of our lives becomes a lot less intimidating.

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This article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal.

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