No one wants to experience the loss of someone whom they love. In fact, for most of us, the idea of losing someone close to us is very anxiety producing. Society often expects only pain and suffering to accompany death-related loss.

How could anything positive come from losing someone you love?

Unfortunately, the expectations of suffering and our own fears around discussing death can prevent us from connecting with and helping those who are grieving.

During this past year, I lost my own mother to a lengthy illness. My mother lived a long, full life. She often stated that she had been “blessed.” However, during the last few years of her life, her health and mental clarity declined rapidly.

I am openly sharing some of my personal experiences with you in the final entry of this 2 part series in the hope that I may pass on the lessons I learned from my experience. I also hope that it may bring you a bit of comfort.

Lesson 3: Risk being vulnerable

Along with the emotional pain, my experience of my mother’s passing was filled with love and acceptance, for which I will be forever grateful. During her last month, my mother repeatedly had what I called “death-bed” conversations. She wanted to make certain that we made amends and let me know how much I meant to her. While this was healing, it was not the norm in my family…in fact, I dreaded these conversations. Every time I would call, I would have the desire to skirt the vulnerability and talk about the weather or something equally trivial. I felt extremely vulnerable when I gave tear-filled, inaudible responses.

But something happened in those conversations that would not have happened without vulnerability.

My mother also provided me the opportunity to comfort her and empathize with her own vulnerabilities. She had a tracheotomy in her 40’s and talked how she felt that most people were afraid to have a conversation with her. Being able to listen and empathize with her struggles felt like an honor and a privilege.

Words don’t really do justice to the connection that I felt with my mother as she prepared for physical death. Prior to my experience, I feared losing my mother. But the experience actually helped me to feel loved, secure, wanted and accepted. I learned that vulnerability was the necessary ingredient which allowed me to lean into the discomfort and experience my own healing.

Lesson 4: Trust the experts

The hospice staff that cared for my mom and our family let us know what we could expect physically as death neared. They advised us on what to expect and described it clearly to us. They also reiterated that they were there to be called on 24/7 with any question or concern.

While every death is unique, there are some experiences that are fairly common among the dying. One of the remarkable phenomena that my family experienced was the burst of renewed energy and clarity that sometimes occurs about 48 hours before death.

After telling my mother that we were coming to visit, she feel into a deep sleep. In fact, she slept so deeply that my sister feared that she would not wake from her sleep. But she did. She awoke with a renewed energy, mental clarity, and spent the day talking and reminiscing with her family and the hospice social worker who visited to “celebrate her life.” She was also clearer minded than she had been in years. She talked about being reunited in Heaven with my father and told me that she expected to see all of her children there (actually, given her tone, I would say she warned me). In the weeks leading up to her death, my mother had little to no appetite and became easily nauseated. However, that evening she decided she wanted a salad and hamburger for dinner. She also decided she wanted to eat it at the kitchen table. This was no small feat for her.

While at the dinner table, sharing her burger with my husband, my mom said that she had a perfect day! After that, she said, “Everything is getting foggy.” I tried to help her clarify what she meant, but she said, “Just foggy.” She also let us know that she was not worried and was ready for bed. Those were her last coherent moments and I feel blessed to have had them.

The next day, the hospice nurse told us that we were most likely in the last 24 hours and prepared us for what we could expect from a physical perspective. The nurse explained that it often becomes obvious that the individual is more in the spiritual world than in the physical. These were comforting words to me. Our experience was almost textbook.

During the last hours, my mother was surrounded by all of her children. The hospice chaplain also spent the last several hours with all of us. He provided us with what we needed most: spiritual support, experience with the physical nature of death and a steady calm presence.

Jackie Dunagan, LAMFT
jdunagan @ GROWcounseling.com

Photo Credit: Public Domain