I love this story, because it shows that when we go the extra mile for someone, it not only helps them but it helps us to feel complete with that patient or family member. Too often I don’t go there, making that extra phone call or making sure things are followed up. I often feel overwhelmed, and unable to take those extra steps. But the thing is, when I just stop, and take the time to be human, to treat another the way I would hope to be treated, that sense of overwhelm leaves me and is replaced by a feeling of calm and grace.
My neighbor died unexpectedly a month ago, at only 31 years old. Her mother who lived with her, was of course shocked and grief stricken. I have been home nursing a sore foot, and she took advantage of that, coming over or calling me two or three times a day, desperate for company. At first I was put off by this – “Geeze I am home with an injury myself – plus I do this for a living – I need a break from Hospice! Must I deal with grief right here at home too?” Then, I melted – I realized that this woman, tho not a close friend, was a friend in need – and that what I had to offer her was beneficial to her. Once my heart melted, and I was able to really be present with her, my sense of overwhelm vanished like a puff of smoke. Being in Service to others is what my Life’s Purpose is – so any time I have the chance to fill that purpose – I feel stronger and healthier. My neighbor is doing better now, we are still in close connection – but she is finding her way in her new landscape pretty well. Death puts us into a new life, and different landscape – those of us who stand guard at the gate are privileged to be there.

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On route to go visit my mom, I sat in an airport terminal late at night, and read your essay. Tears streamed down my face as I typed your Journal essay. I felt embarrassed by my flood of emotion in a such a public place.
Life ‘s essence is crystal clear and never more poignant when we are face to face with death. Suddenly, it is as though we understand everything about what really matters. As caregivers we receive this gift of true awareness when we are in the presence of a person dealing with a life threatening illness. John’s choice to stop treatment was a courageous one. In the sacred intimacy of that moment, you were present to bear witness to his grief.
I appreciate your candidness about your feelings of guilt. Although, not rational these emotions are challenging. Family members often grapple with similar intense emotions that can complicate grief. Thoughts swirling endlessly…if only I said this, did not say that, did this or did not to that. We can relive and agonize over the course of a loved one’s illness. I guess this is part of the grieving process and it is important to express all our emotions within the safety of Love.
I was touched by your act of love; that you took that blanket home to safeguard your patient’s sacred trust. Although, I wished his daughter could have been there to hold her father’s hand as he took his last breast, a miracle unfolded when the nurse held the phone up to his ear for that last loving exchange to occur.
Sending the blanket to his daughter was an affirmation of life and as healing for you as his daughter. As Henri Nouwen attests, we all are wounded healers. As we accompany our patients and family members at end of life we heal and are healed in the process. What a precious gift.

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Thank you for sharing these marvelous insights, Margot that speak to the fragility of our humanness and our ambivalence. Yet, somehow when our “heart melts” we are able to show up and be there for one another. I love your heart, Margot!

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Ashley,
You never know when what you do will touch another person’s soul. You did that for more than one person. You did it for me. You brought back a detail of my cousin’s death from a Glioblastoma.
She was more like my sister and we were very close. Pam was in Florida and her sister called and told me she was dying and would be gone any time, but probably in the next few days. I made arrangements to go see her and then called and asked to speak to Pam. Carol, her sister, said she didn’t know anyone but still put the phone to her ear. Pam knew me immediately and said, “Honey, how are you? I love you so.” We talked for a few brief minutes and I told her I was coming. She died a few hours later.
Life is so fragile and precious, and people like you make their last moments so worthwhile.
May God bless your continued mission.

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A Beautiful but sad story. I admire a man like John, who knew when it was his time to go and went after saying his goodbyes in his own time.

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