Dying Well

As you may know my 97-year-old father died back in September. He was preceded in death by his soulmate of 74 years 14 months earlier   Both of them were lovingly cared for by my wonderful sister and brother-in-law their last 15 years of life in their home in Huntsville, AL.

In my devotional reading this morning I came across this statement by Henri Nouwen and it made me blink back the tears.

One of the greatest gifts we can offer our family and friends is helping them to die well. Sometimes they are ready to go to God but we have a hard time letting them go. But there is a moment in which we need to give those we love the permission to return to God, from whom they came. We have to sit quietly with them and say, “Do not be afraid… I love you, God loves you… it’s time for you to go in peace.… I won’t cling to you any longer… I set you free to go home.… Go gently, go with my love.” Saying this from the heart is a true gift. It is the greatest gift love can give.

 I feel our family provided this last gift to mom and dad.

In the case of my mother, my wonderful wife, Karen, aided Joy in being attentive to Mom’s final hours on earth.  Karen lovingly stroked Mom’s hand and spoke of the many ways she had blessed her and our family. She told mom that she was a little jealous that she would be able to see Jacob before Karen got to.  Karen, through her tears, told mom to be sure to give Jacob a hug and kiss from her.  And mom smiled a smile indicating that she would.

When Karen’s mother was in her final hours, the hospice nurse gave her and her siblings some invaluable advice.  She told them to each tell their mom that their lives were in a good place; that their mom had prepared them well for life; and that they will be sad, but they’ll be OK and that it was OK for her to leave them.  Karen said that her passing was a sweet moment in time because of that advice.

The final night of dad’s life on earth, my brother, David, and I had a sweet time getting dad ready for bed.  We joked about getting him dressed and how we had put his pajama bottoms on backwards.  It was a typical Edfeldt boys’ moment. Little did we know that when we kissed him and told him good night that that would be our farewell (yet each of us had a sense that it could be).  I hold precious that my final words to him was, “Good night, dad. I love you.”

But I know that those opportunities are rare.  Often times death comes suddenly and unexpectedly.  Many don’t have the opportunities to be able to share intimate moments that I shared above.

When Jacob was in his final days (though we did not know it at the time), he began apologizing to me. I told him there was no need to apologize. I began to list things that he had done in our family’s life that are priceless memories.

(Here’s a blog entry on that experience: https://embracinggrief.blogspot.com/2015/02/daddy-im-sorry-dated-61412.html)

Looking back, I feel Jacob recognized it was a beginning step of closure.  I hesitantly tried to give a blessing of release.

But many more are the times that the news of a loved one’s death comes to us via a phone call or a knock on the door.  The time of loving release is ripped from us.  We feel cheated.

That is when times of discussion about words of memories and release with an understanding listener are so valuable.

That is when a quiet hour at the graveside, sharing those feelings of loss, those feelings of being cheated of future memories, but, ultimately, those feelings of release can be shared.

It is so important to say to your loved one, “I will be OK. I will miss you terribly, but I will be OK.”.  If you’re lucky, you can say it in their presence, but say those words to their memory. 

Say those words!