One of my biggest fears is dying. It always has been. To be honest, I am not sure if my excessive fear is typical because nobody ever talks about it, at least not in my social circle. I hear all these stories of how people have made their peace with the fact that they are dying or going to die and I cannot wrap my head around that. I admire and respect these people because to me, it seems like they have a strong faith; one that gives them the courage to face what may come next. I wish I had that courage when it comes to death and dying. Its not like I have lived this sheltered life of perfect health and harmony. I have had experiences that have had the potential of ending up on the other side. I think my fear has to do with the unknown of life after death. Despite my Catholic beliefs, I do not feel one hundred percent assured that there is this eternal life after we leave our body. Or maybe a better way to put it is that I dont know what this eternal life truly looks like. What does it feel like after you die? Do we feel anything? Do we have internal thoughts like we have now? Are there bright lights and angels singing when our soul ascends into heaven? What if there really isnt a heaven? Too many unknowns for me. Maybe, just not enough faith. I had the opportunity two years ago today to be with my sister as she died. I had never experienced that before. I have had people close to me die, but I was never present when the actual event took place. For two years, I have been trying to gather my thoughts and words together to describe how being present with someone you love, as they leave this life, can change a person but the words would not come through the wall of emotional grief that still sits in my heart and my mind. Hence why this post feels so disjointed to me. But I know that some of the words have to be written because until I get them down, I will not be able to write about anything else. People talk all the time about the wonders of being born. The miracle of life. A new baby signifies joy and happiness. People gather around the new baby and usher him or her into this world with love and devotion. My experience of being present with my sister as she died was that the process of dying and death itself deserves just as much love and devotion as the process of being born. However I am not sure that most of our culture recognizes that fact. Maybe because to most of us, it is such a sad event. Maybe because we are already mourning our own loss. But its not just about us and our own loss. Its about the person who is dying. Their needs. We are not alone when we are born. I think we should not be alone when we die. Unfortunately, we do not get to choose how or when we die so oftentimes, dying alone is inevitable. I watched my family members and some close friends keep vigil at my sisters bedside for well over twelve hours before she left us. One of them on one side and one on the other, always touching her in some way and talking to her. I watched, while stroking her head and holding her, my sister take her last breath. A moment that is permanently etched in my memory. A memory that often comes back to me in my dreams, or even sometimes as a nightmare. But as difficult of a process as it was to be involved with, I saw during those twelve plus hours that it wasnt just the sadness that filled that room, but the love. The love between a mother and her daughter. The love between a daughter and her mom. The love between a father and a daughter. The love between a brother and a sister...a sister and a sister. The love between an Uncle and his niece...an Aunt and her niece...a cousin to a cousin. The comfort and love that was unfailingly given to my sister during her last hours was just as important, probably even MORE important, than the love she received the day she was born. I have come to recognize that being with a person as they prepare to leave this earth is a privilege and one of the greatest things that we can do for another human being. Is it gut wrenching and one of the most difficult things one might ever do? Absolutely. But it is an opportunity that many people do not get. An opportunity to remind your loved one how much they are loved because I truly believe that your words are heard despite their physical condition. Its an opportunity to say goodbye. Its an opportunity to gracefully usher a person to their final destination. To be honest, it has taken me some time to get to this perspective. The visual images of my sister in her last hours still weigh heavy in my mind when I least expect them to. However when I consciously and intentionally think back to that day, it is not the memories of her physical state that jump to my mind first. No, not at all. It is the other things. Hearing the quiet whispers of reminiscing between my parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins and her friends. The loving words spoken by my cousin Jeanie to my sister. The loving words spoken by my Mother to my sister. The loving words that I and my husband spoke to my sister. The image of my mother holding her daughters hand. The movement of my sisters hand indicating that she could hear us. The grace and strength that my husband demonstrated. My own strength. The moment that she did not take another breath after hearing her breathe for hours; the sign that she was finally at peace. I pray for my sister every day that she is in a much better place, wherever that may be. A place where she experiences no pain, disappointment, sadness, or loss. A place where she can rest and be filled with all of the happiness and joy that she so richly deserves. A place where love constantly surrounds and cradles her. A place that perhaps may be called, heaven.
Posted on: Sat, 12 Apr 2014 18:18:56 +0000
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