My wife at this very moment is in vigil awaiting the passing of her mother at the hospital. She is accompanied by her dad (a very intelligent and stoic man who comes to the hospital when he can, when his energy outweighs his exhaustion), sister, a niece, a nephew, her brother, and our daughter, who has no experience with death. Her other sister is also in the hospital, in ICU now for nine weeks, at a different location across town. Her bill for her ICU stay just topped one million dollars. It is now pouring outside and in.
Her mom had always been a bit of a maverick. She believes in reincarnation, despite the simultaneous Catholic tradition the whole family enjoys. She loved Yoga, and at age 75 she could contort in ways only a teen could. Her Alzheimer's left her a bit confused about things like cooking and whether to get the place ready for guests that had not been invited.
A hospital chaplain came in late last night. She said a strange prayer that I judged to be disconnected. But when everyone in unison began to recite the Lord's Prayer, I joined in too, and managed to remember it well enough from my childhood in the folds of the Methodist church.
I keep wondering: what does the dying person want most?
To have the family there, to not be frightened, to not be in pain, to know that they have done well, that they were and are loved, to have an expectation that they will somehow continue. These things are unrelated to any religion. They are human needs, they are psychological necessities.
Update: My wife called this very minute to tell me her mother has died. I know her mom felt the love of her family. My wife was playing Let It Be by the Beatles and her mother passed at the very moment the last line of that song was sung. No shit.
Update: The funeral was today. It was a Catholic mass, very touching, tons of symbolism. Did you know that the "smoke" they throw about the casket came from a time when the churches would be filled with folks who never bathed, who smelled to high heaven. The smoke was room freshener. Now it represents prayers and souls ascending to heaven, instead of just odors.
My wife was holding herself together, as was her whole family. They all need some serious crying time.
Her mom had always been a bit of a maverick. She believes in reincarnation, despite the simultaneous Catholic tradition the whole family enjoys. She loved Yoga, and at age 75 she could contort in ways only a teen could. Her Alzheimer's left her a bit confused about things like cooking and whether to get the place ready for guests that had not been invited.
A hospital chaplain came in late last night. She said a strange prayer that I judged to be disconnected. But when everyone in unison began to recite the Lord's Prayer, I joined in too, and managed to remember it well enough from my childhood in the folds of the Methodist church.
I keep wondering: what does the dying person want most?
To have the family there, to not be frightened, to not be in pain, to know that they have done well, that they were and are loved, to have an expectation that they will somehow continue. These things are unrelated to any religion. They are human needs, they are psychological necessities.
Update: My wife called this very minute to tell me her mother has died. I know her mom felt the love of her family. My wife was playing Let It Be by the Beatles and her mother passed at the very moment the last line of that song was sung. No shit.
Update: The funeral was today. It was a Catholic mass, very touching, tons of symbolism. Did you know that the "smoke" they throw about the casket came from a time when the churches would be filled with folks who never bathed, who smelled to high heaven. The smoke was room freshener. Now it represents prayers and souls ascending to heaven, instead of just odors.
My wife was holding herself together, as was her whole family. They all need some serious crying time.
This is very moving and very right on. I believe your list of things a dying person wants should be displayed in every hospital and hospice in America.
ReplyDeleteTheir family is still in great sorrow and pain, but they are coping. I spent time with their dad today. We talked about all manner of things, including the insanity of expecting that one ever "gets over it."
ReplyDeleteYou don't get over losing the love of your life or your mother or father or your child. You just keep waking up in the morning, living your day, going to sleep at night...
Delete