We Are All in Essence Dying

Week 9

“Why do we wait to be diagnosed with a terminal illness to feel a sense of urgency about living? The fact of the matter is from the instant we take our first breath, we are in essence dying. Why can’t we live our lives to the fullest without a dire prediction?” -This is what I started to write on Saturday night. Today’s date loomed large as it is the anniversary of my beloved grandmother’s death. This led me to some serious thoughts on the subject of death, which ultimately led me to some serious thoughts on the subject of life. I went to bed with a vortex spinning in my head on the weightiest of subjects… the complexities of life, death, and life-after-death. I do not recommend this as a method to induce productive sleep.

In April of 2010, my 88 year old mother-in-law was put on a ventilator. As her medical power-of-attorney, I had to make a decision as to when we should remove it. I waited a week to allow time for the family to come say their goodbyes. Nobody came. My husband helped to care for his father so I could remain by her side. I treasure the last 48 hours in a way that no one could ever understand… unless they have been in those shoes with someone they have deeply loved.

In November of 2010, I lost the sister-in-law I cherished. We talked on the phone the day before. We talked on the phone almost every day for 10 years! We were in the middle of a conversation, discussing what the four grandkids that lived with me would be wearing for Halloween, when I arrived at the grocery store. I asked if I could call her the next afternoon. She said yes. She died the next morning. It still bothers me that our last goodbye was more of a “to be continued” that can never be continued; that there were things left unsaid between us.

In February of 2012, I rushed home to Mississippi because my youngest granddaughter was born two months early. Fraught with worry, I watched that tiny little girl struggle to grow stronger, struggle to survive. I left the NICU and went to my grandmother’s house. At 92, I knew she had already begun to give up on life. As I stood by her side telling her about the tiniest new member of our family, she grasped my hand. Her eyes cleared for a moment as I showed her the photo I had taken for her of her great granddaughter. She squeezed my hand weakly and said to me, “I just want to go home, Baby.” The following morning it became apparent it was her time to go. I was blessed to be by her side until she passed away peacefully as dawn broke on March 3rd.

In October of 2012 Dad lost his battle with Alzheimer’s. Once again, I was destined to be there as another soul I loved left its body. At the age of 90, it was his time and he was more than ready for it. How different it is when a person has lived a long, full life and is called home!

In August of 2012 my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Words like “terminal”, “inoperable”, “stage 3b”, “less than 3 months” began to swirl through my life like a hurricane hitting the beach. Mama, however, took it in her normal headlong stride. She refuses to give up. Here it is, March 2013 and technically, she has beaten all of the doctor’s predictions. Her bucket list continues to grow and her attitude against her disease does, too. She is one of the bravest people I’ve ever known and I am proud that she’s my mother.