In modern American society, we hardly ever see death or dying people. They're kept tucked away in hospitals, nursing homes or private homes, out of public view. So we hardly ever think about the end of our lives, which is strange really because it's the one thing we are all guaranteed to have.
Contrast that with people living in a less industrialized/developed country. There may not be the financial capabilities, nor the desire, to place a dying family member in a nursing home. And so the family adjusts its schedules, finances and daily living practices to care for the dying person. While this is difficult, and not something I would readily sign myself up for, it is certainly instructive. It means that the whole family -- adults and children alike -- are exposed to the process of dying, 24/7. They witness the body gradually shutting down. They see their loved one sleeping more, resting more, having less energy and less alertness. They witness the arms and legs growing mottled as the body shunts energy and blood away from the extremities and toward the vital organs. They are present for the whole dying process.
What a gift! Not to downplay the difficulty of watching a loved one leave this earth, or the daily work of caregiving, but it is a gift nonetheless to witness a human body naturally moving through its autumn toward its final winter. It is instructive. It gives one a different frame of reference from what we see on TV, which usually shows an intense, quick, painful experience of dying. It seems as though in reality death is a long, slow, drawn-out process that can take over a year!
It also gives one an opportunity to grieve. It helps one let go of the dying person because one is in tune with the body's natural dying process. Perhaps a long, slow process helps us to more easily accept the end of a life.
And yet we continue to postpone death through extreme medical interventions, and every means possible. We even try to erase signs of aging with hair dyes and plastic surgery. As a culture, we are so uncomfortable with aging and death and we glorify youth and life.
Because we do not ponder our own death, and because we hardly see or experience death, we do not fully live. We get distracted by advertising that tells us we need to worry about possessions, looks, sports teams, celebrities and clothes. We do not really live our lives. We forget to explore the depth of our soul, or that of others. We rush through meals instead of savoring each bite and reflecting on the miracle of a plant becoming a seed that then becomes a plant that nourishes our bodies. If you stop to think about it, it really is amazing!
I start my weekends by keeping Mrs. G company. Mrs. G is dying. She is a kind woman who has slept through two of our three visits. I mostly sit and read. If she's awake, I read to her or talk with her. I feel connected to her. I pray for her during the week and for her son, A, who is so attentive and loving as he cares for her.
Keeping company with the dying means being present to them. Mission Hospice says its mission is to provide support for clients so they can have dignity and independence for as long as possible. As a patient care volunteer, I often read, play music on my phone, talk or just sit quietly at the bedside of my patients. I keep them company. I enjoy this work. Like most things in life that are worthwhile, it isn't earth-shattering or stunning. It's quiet, simple and unobtrusive.
I often feel so much calmer after a visit with a patient than before. Just sitting quietly for two or three hours can be quite peaceful. My life is so busy and I'm often going here and there for meetings or to visit loved ones or to work or school. It's a gift to be able to sit quietly and not think about my own life for a while.
The main reason I like this work is that I feel I'm truly helping the caregivers. I know I'm providing much needed relief so they can go grocery shopping or wash their car, or just go into another room and sleep. I'm glad to give six hours a week or so to others. Often these are adult children in their 50s who have very little support in caregiving for their dying parent. They often have full-time jobs, and they are trying to manage care for their dying parent on top of everything else. I'm grateful for the opportunity to help them. And they are grateful for me. Their eyes tell me as I leave, as do their "thank yous" how much they appreciate the break they've received. Just that -- a sincere word of thanks -- does a world of good. It lifts my spirit and buoys me up as I return home to my family.
This interaction, this brief exchange of gratitude, is so simple, and yet it brings happiness in general. I find that I have more patience for others. I don't get as flustered by life's inconveniences. I am kinder to people -- family, friends, strangers, customer service representatives -- because really our energy in this present moment, is all we have and I'd rather spend it in kindness and patience than anger or irritation. I'd rather treat people, animals, plants, the earth, and moments with kindness, gentleness and love than run roughshod over them to arrive at the end of my life -- or any moment of my life -- and find that I'm friendless because I've been a poor friend. Or that I have plenty of things but no one to share them with because I wasn't attentive to others as I acquired these things.
Relationships are the heart of life. As Christians we are called into community with others. We aren't really Christians without community. It's only in relationship to others that we see our own strengths and weaknesses and work on them. We make mistakes and we mess up. We ask for forgiveness and we give it freely to others. This is how we fully live.
I'm grateful that keeping company with the dying has taught me that.
