They seem to come in, most are alert, some can get around a bit by themselves, and then deteriorate. At some point most of them “leave the building” but the body stays alive for several days.

And hardly anyone talks about death. We don’t bring it up, it is their decision, and when they bring it up we go where they are, asking questions. If they ask a question my answers are always to say that some religions talk about heaven, a pretty nice place.

Some I’ve told about the Masai, who throw someone’s carcass out into the plain, regarding it as worthless. What is important is the spirit, which goes to “the other place which is always nearby”. So ancestors are never lost, they are always nearby.

That seems to comfort some of the folks a lot.

Far more likely to happen is for someone to ramble about their lives after you ask them what it was like for them as a kid in – wherever they were born. Then it’s fun, as they go off with stories similar to ones we’ve had,

But most do not. They simply fade away, becoming more and more

moribund – word for the day –
Adjective:
(of a person) At the point of death.
(of a thing) In terminal decline; lacking vitality or vigor.

until they are gone.

At least that’s been my experience.

If one looks past the immediate heartache of what is happening,just under the surface there lies an acceptance of the inevitable. Something every last one of us will share with everyone else. It becomes symbiotic.

That is why I would love to work with hospice. They open their hearts…and I promise to cradle it until they are no longer.

Several weeks ago a very sick woman checked in. She had a large, active family who were very concerned with her, hovering around until they were satisfied she was getting the care she needed.

Her condition worsened, and there was concern she stay comfortable. Otherwise there was a remarkably relaxed view of her situation. A small group of her children talked with me several times about how hard it was to lose her, about how selfishly they were regarding the passing. We processed that, I think all they were wanting was someone to give them permission to feel that way.

Mother passed soon after. I walked down the hall to her room, in which there were 8 to 10 people. I walked by and heard laughter, saw smiling people, and was invited in.

I wanted to say something smart but I simply mentioned that they seemed remarkably at ease.

One of the daughters said enthusiastically, “We know exactly what she is doing right now. She’s talking with her friend Helen, and is she giving her an earful!” A son added, “I’ll bet they are still hugging!”

All of them were that positive. Living examples of their Faith, all of them were cheerfully noting their Mother’s entrance to Heaven.

That had a profound effect upon me.

Mom used to be a neo natal nurse. She swore when a baby crossed over she heard the flutter of wings.

When my father was in hospice I did not grieve. Not because he was some awful mean man whom I was glad no longer walked on this planet. My Dad was an unhappy man in this life. I was relieved he had finally found peace.

I view death much different than most people I suspect. I think I would like to be with the the people who are dying. I would love to re-assure them…comfort them. Oddly, I find great peace in this. Purpose.

I am too busy right now to volunteer…but I can see it coming in my future. It would be an honor.

I don’t think I’d have what it takes to keep myself from breaking down a dozen times a day. I’ve taken care of my wife in hospitals and rehab, but the endpoint of that is recovery, and it’s a whole different ball of wax.