What's in a Word?

Love me tender,
Love me sweet,
Never let me go.
You have made my life complete,
And I love you so.

Love me tender,
Love me true,
All my dreams fulfilled.
For my darlin I love you,
And I always will.

Love me tender,
Love me long,
Take me to your heart.
For it's there that I belong,
And well never part.

Love me tender,
Love me dear,
Tell me you are mine.
Ill be yours through all the years,
Till the end of time.

(when at last my dreams come true
Darling this I know
Happiness will follow you
Everywhere you go).

I ended up singing at hospice this morning (thank heavens for my smartphone so that I could access all the lyrics; I need to print a hospice cheat sheet) and reading a few poems.  It's odd to sing of the "end of time" or read of death to someone who is dying.  I almost stumbled over the words, very self-conscious.  As if the 95 year-old woman didn't know and I shouldn't tell her.  Or that it was so private and I shouldn't even refer to it.  But I did, having found it in so many of the songs and poems I had this morning.

How is it that we use the word "die" or "death" so easily in some cases (for example, "my phone died," "I could've died when he said that.") but not in others ("she passed.")  Is it a denial of death or the overuse of the word in banal situations?  Or even a spiritual belief that nothing ends?   I've been trying to use "died" for people or living things only and it's harder than I thought and pretty rare among people I know.   But I don't want to be scared to say it--he died, she's dying.  Even if I believe something continues after death, the body really does cease to function and die.  I want to return some of the sacredness to the word, perhaps to recognize the enormity of the event that will happen to all of us.  I think I need to say it, even or especially as I sit singing and staring it in the face.
 
Deep thoughts from hospice this morning . . . .